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Narratologia
Contributions to Narrative Theory
Edited by
Fotis Jannidis, Mat´ıas Mart´ınez, John Pier
Wolf Schmid (executive editor)
Editorial Board
Catherine Emmott, Monika Fludernik
Jose Angel Garc´ıa Landa, Peter Hühn, Manfred Jahn
Andreas Kablitz, Uri Margolin, Jan Christoph Meister
Ansgar Nünning, Marie-Laure Ryan
Jean-Marie Schaeffer, Michael Scheffel
Sabine Schlickers, Jörg Schönert
29
De Gruyter
Time
From Concept to Narrative Construct:
A Reader
Edited by
Jan Christoph Meister
Wilhelm Schernus
De Gruyter
ISBN 978-3-11-022208-1
e-ISBN 978-3-11-022718-5
ISSN 1612-8427
Acknowledgements VII
Foreword IX
HANS REICHENBACH
The Tenses of Verbs 1
PETER BIER:
Time Experience and Personhood 13
PETER JANICH
Constituting Time through Action and Discourse 29
ROBIN LE POIDEVIN
Time, Tense and Topology 49
GUNTHERMULLER
The Significance of Time in Narrative Art 67
KATE HAMBURGER
The Timelessness of Poetry 85
EBERHARD LAMMERT
The Time References of Narration 101
ALFONSO DETORO
Time Structure in the Contemporary Novel 109
ROLAND HARWEG
Story-time and Fact-sequence-time 143
VI Contents
JANCHRISTOPHMEISTER
The Temporality Effect
Towards a Process Model of Narrative Time Construction 171
INDERJEETMAM
The Flow of Time in Narrative
An Artificial Intelligence Perspective 217
The editors are grateful for permission to translate and reproduce the
following material:
Peter Janich: 'Die Konstion der Zeit durch Handeln und Reden,' in:
Kodikas/Code 19.1-2 (1996), 133-147, by Peter Janich
Foreword
In this anthology, we present eleven texts on 'time': an existentially
omnipresent, but philosophically evasive concept and phenomenon. As
the title indicates, we have tried to assemble a range of contributions
which, as an ensemble, relate the philosophical perspective onto time
to literary theory's attempts to clarify how time appears, functions and
is construed in and by narratives. Interrelating these distinct disciplin-
ary approaches toward time, our anthology's aim is to contribute, by
way of grouping seminal texts in a fresh context, to a new approach in
which a philosophical, a narratological and a computational perspect-
ive onto narrative-based time construction might be fruitfully integ-
rated. Read in sequence, the eleven contributions therefore also impli-
citly unfold a theoretical argument: if over time we have come to ac-
knowledge that time is indeed a cognitive construct, then building a
functional model that makes the process of construction more transpar-
ent might offer new insights into how time 'works'. And in this respect
the process of narrative time construction offers a particularly fascinat-
ing object of study.
The intricate relationship between time and narrative has met the in-
terest of various disciplines, a fact accounting for the variety of meth-
odological perspectives represented in studies on the subject. Among
the most influential that appeared during the latter half of the 20* cen-
tury count Bakhtin's essay on Chronotopos (1975),1 which investigates
the semiotic interrelation of time and space in fiction and drama, and
Paul Ricoeur's ambitious three-volume investigation Temps et recit
(1983-1985),2 which postulates narration as the privileged mode of hu-
man conceptualization and experience of time. A quarter century later,
the philosophical relevance of the narrative-based conceptualization of
time is re-emphasised by Mark Currie in his recent About Time. Nar-
rative, Fiction and the Philosophy of Time (2007). Curne's Husserl-in-
1
Bachtm, Michail M. (2008). Chronotopos. Frankfurt/M.: Suhrkamp.
2
Ricoeur, Paul (1983-1985). Temps et recit, t. 3. Paris: Semi, transl.: Time and
Narrative, 3 vols. Chicago: U of Chicago P 1984-1988.
X Foreword
spired (if not subtly Heideggenan) thesis contra torrentem and contra
Ricoeur is that narrating constitutes less a phenomenon of retrospection,
but rather and primarily one of prospection and projection.3 Its unique
function, according to Currie, lies not in the objectification of memory
and in the backward-oriented re-presentation of the past that enables
the positioning and self-affirmation of ourselves within a biographic
and historic continuum. Rather, what counts is the peculiar dialectic of
an anticipated retrospection upon the present. Phrased in Genettian
terms, the thesis thus proclaims not analepsis, but prolepsis to consti-
tute the differentia specifica of narrating. Moreover, in Currie's per-
spective the philosophical relevance of narration stems from its power
to reflect, on a structural level, the anticipatory mode of being that has
become the signature of modern human society and existence. As Cur-
rie argues, the acknowledgment of this fact is bound to have far-reach-
ing consequences not just for philosophy, but also with a view to estab-
lishing a tense-based narratology that 'takes as its starting point the
possibility of inferring a metaphysics of time from the temporal struc-
ture of narrative.'4
Not everybody will underwrite such far-reaching conclusions and
support the attempt to relate a philosophical definition of time to the
historical and the aesthetic domain, and vice versa. Perhaps the most
outspoken opponent to the idea of approaching the concept of time via
the phenomenology of narration is Mark Currie's namesake Gregory
Currie. In 'Can There Be a Literary Philosophy of Time?' (1999),5 he
reaches a decidedly negative verdict, stating that literature per se can-
not contribute anything of philosophical relevance to our understanding
of time in that whatever is represented and mediated by literary narra-
tion is, by force of its illusionary potential, always experienced as a
present occurrence. However, to narcologists and structuralists this
analytic counter-argument will probably seem reductionist, for in their
perspective what matters about narratives is in any case the how of nar-
rating, rather than the what of the narrative's illusionary story world.
The fruitfulness of an analysis of the former has been clearly demon-
strated by, among other, Genette's narratological theory with its sys-
3
Currie, Mark (2007). About Time. Narrative, Fiction and the Philosophy of Time.
Edinburgh: Edinburgh UP 2007. - On Currie's book also see: Meister, Jan
Christoph (published 25.01.20092009). 'Erzahlen als vorweggenommene
Rilckschau. Uber Mark Curries About Time; in: IASLonline, <http://www.-
iaslonlme.de/mdex.-php?vorgang_id=2665> (30.11.2010).
4
Ibid., 151.
5
Currie, Gregory (1999). 'Can There Be a Literary Philosophy of Time?' in: The
Arguments of Time, ed. by J. Butterfield. Oxford: Oxford UP, 43-63.
Foreword XI
11
Drucker, J., Nowvieskie, B. (2003). 'The Temporal Modelling Project.'
<http://www2.iath.virginia.edu/trme/project/mdex.html (01.12.2010)>.
12
Meister, Jan Christoph (2005). 'Tagging Time in Prolog: The Temporality Effect
Project,' m: Literary and Linguistic Computing 20: 107-124 (Suppl.).
13
Mam, Inderjeet (2010). The Imagined Moment. Time, Narrative, and Computation.
Lincoln and London: U of Nebraska P.
14
Among these are: Mam, Inderjeet, Pustejovsky, James, Gaizauskas, Rob, eds.
(2005). The Language of Time: A Reader. Oxford: Oxford UP; Butterfield, Jeremy,
ed. (1999). The Arguments of Time. Oxford: Oxford UP; Zimmerli, Walter Ch.,
Sandbothe, Mike, eds. (1993). Klassiker der modernen Zeitphilosophie. Darmstadt:
WBG1993.
Foreword XIII
Philosophy of Time
The first four articles presented in this book deal with time from a
philosophical perspective, investigating it firstly in relation to time ex-
pressions in natural language, secondly as a category intricately related
to our sense of self-awareness and identity, and thirdly as a life-world
phenomenon which structures and influences the encounter of our hu-
man consciousness with the world.
Hans Reichenbach's 'The Tenses of Verbs' (1947) proceeds from
the observation that tenses of verbs determine time with reference to
the time point of the speech act, differentiating accordingly between
the point of speech, the point of the event, and the point of reference.
He then demonstrates the specific usage of different tenses in different
languages (with a focus on English) to express time relations and ar-
18
In order to serve this purpose, we have decided on a translation approach which at-
tempts to preserve the original German document's argumentative and rhetonc style
as far as tenable in order to honour its historicity. Admittedly, given the well-
known means of German grammar to support complex hypotactic structures, this
decision is not unproblematic. In addition, one of the consequences of our approach
to translation is to accept terminological inconsistency across contributions.
Foreword XV
rives at thirteen possible forms of ordering the three time points. Nine
of these are termed fiindamental forms, noting at the same time that in
English, for example, only six recognised grammatical tenses exist and
that the tenses for which a language has no established forms are there-
fore expressed by paraphrase. Reichenbach draws the conclusion that
'logical categories were not clearly seen in the beginnings of language
but were the results of long developments; we therefore should not be
astonished if actual language does not always fit the schema which we
try to construct in symbolic logic.'1'
Such faculty of symbolic representation of time presupposes the
faculty of its mental representation. The most fundamental implication
of our human ability to represent time mentally is discussed in Peter
Bien's 'Time Experience and Personhood' (1986).™ The concept of
personhood, as Bien shows, is dependent on time consciousness,
which, in turn, is founded upon self-awareness. Self-awareness and
time consciousness enable us to experience the present against the
background of an appropriated past, and in the light of a project for the
future, thus creating a sense of identity. In a causal perspective, the ap-
propriation of our past and the conceptualization of our future, as Bien
shows, are necessary pre-conditions for the emergence of a sense of
identity, and both are facilitated by an integration of past experiences
and future projections into a coherent self-narrative: 'We expect from a
person that his projects match the explanatory story that constitutes his
present identity. I have to plan what I want to be in the future in the
light of what I have become in the past.'21
Peter Jamch's 'Constituting Time through Action and Discourse'
(1996)- investigates how we actively constitute time through symbolic
as well as concrete acting, raising the question of primacy. His ap-
proach is to look at how we talk about time and temporality; his con-
clusion is that time consciousness is indeed a function of acting, which
always comes first. In Jamch's view, time-statements are actually of a
meta-linguistic order; they are 'merely a shorter, more elegant way of
describing temporal statements' which in themselves remain subject to
the 'methodical primacy of the ability to act over the constitution of a
19
Reichenbach, 11 in the current volume.
20
Translated from the German original: Bien, Peter (1986). 'Zeiterfahrung und
Personahtat,' m: H. Burger (ed.): Zeit, Natur und Mensch. Beitrage von
Wissenschaftlern zum Thema "Zeit". Berlin: Berlin Verlag Arno Spitz, 261-281.
21
Bien, 26 m the current volume.
22
Translated from the German ongmal: Jamch, Peter (1996). 'Die Konstitution der
Zeit durchHandeln und Reden,' in: Kodikas/ Code 19.1-2: 133-147.
XVI Foreword
The articles in the second group consider time as it appears and func-
tions in the context of literary narratives; in doing so, they attempt to
elucidate how effects of time and temporality influence and are them-
selves shaped by narration. All of the five contnbutions contained in
this section have been translated from the onginal German and are now
available in English for the first time.
Giinther Miiller's 1946 inaugural lecture The Significance of Time
in Narrative Art* introduces the fundamental opposition of time of
narration vs. narrated time (Erzahlzeit / erzahlte Zeit), a distinction
23
Jamch, 47 m the current volume.
24
Le Poidevin, 65 in the current volume.
25
Translated from the original German: Miiller, Gunther (1947). Die Bedeutung der
Zeit in derErzahlkunst. Bonn: Umversitatsverlag.
Foreword XVII
28
Translated from the original German: Lammert, Eberhard ([1955] 91990). 'Die
Zeitbezilge des Erzahlens,' m: E. Lammert: Bauformen des Erzahlens. Stuttgart:
Metzler, 19-24.
29
Lammert, 106 in the current volume.
Foreword XIX
30
Translated from the original German: de Toro, Alfonso (1986). 'Versuch ernes
erweiterten Modells filr die Analyse von Zeitstrukturen nach G. Genette,' m: A. de
Toro: Die Zeitstruktur im Gegenwartsroman am Beispiel von G. Marcia Mdrquez'
Cien anos de soledad, M. Vargas Llosas La casa verde und A. Robbe-Grillets La
maison de rendez-vous. Tubingen: Gunter Narr, 26^17. In our translation we have
amended the chapter title to reflect its contextualization in de Toro's book.
31
de Toro, 110m the current volume.
XX Foreword
The two concluding contributions appear for the first time here. Both
focus on what might be considered the underlying - albeit not always
explicit - assumption shared by all texts contained in this volume:
time, in the form that we experience it, is not directly accessible to our
perception, but a construct of the human mind. And if that is indeed the
case, then narratives and the activity of generating as well as decoding
narrative representations ought to be modeled as dynamic processes.
This is where computers come into play.
Meister's contribution 'The Temporality Effect. Towards a Process
Model of Narrative Time Construction' tries to address a methodolo-
gical lacuna mentioned earlier on, namely the hitherto insufficient at-
tempts to relate cognitive and computational models of text-controlled
time construction jointly and evenly to, on the one hand, philosophy of
time and, on the other hand, to narrative theory. Whether the article
and the decision to base such a model on McTaggart's and Husserl's
time philosophy as well as on narcological categories is a step into
the right direction, remains for the reader to judge.
The concluding chapter of this anthology presents Mam's insightful
'The Flow of Time in Narrative. An Artificial Intelligence
Perspective'. Time, as the author reminds us, does not appear alone in
narrative; it is wound up with events, and involves relationships that
hinge on modality and point-of-view. This accounts for a subjective no-
tion of time, where the position of an event in time is dynamic and
changes relative to the speaker. This notion must be reconciled with
another, so-called objective notion of time where the events are ordered
in a fixed, static fashion. Against this background, Mam introduces an
AI perspective that integrates these concepts within a coherent frame-
work. As he demonstrates, AI models based on narcological theory
and findings from cognitive sciences are able to tell us what sorts of
reasoning about time and events an intelligent agent can carry out.
These findings, the author suggests, should be taken further in two
ways: one, by conducting psychological experiments to learn more
about how humans construct time representations; two, by scaling up
the corpora in which time lines are identified. Mam considers his in-
vestigations 'only a first step [... ] in a much richer examination of time
Foreword XXI
Credits
This anthology may have come into being as the side-product of a re-
search project. However, it quickly outgrew the status of a stepchild,
both in terms of the challenges which it presented, and in terms of the
intellectual reward that it gave. The intellectual reward we hope to be
able to share; as for the challenges one thing is clear: the editors would
not have been able to meet them without the generous support that we
enjoyed. We thank the German Research Council (DFG) for the finan-
cial grant awarded to the 'Temporality Effect' project of which this an-
thology forms an integral part, and we thank our institution, the Uni-
versity of Hamburg, for providing the material, personal and adminis-
trative infrastructure on which academic research work is dependent.
A particularly big 'Thank you' is owed to the team of graduate stu-
dents and assistants who helped with the editing of the manuscript:
Lisa Griinhage, Lena Schiich and Rike Lohmann. We also thank our
translators, Ingnd Launen and Alexander Starntt, for their remarkable
effort.
Finally, we would also like to express our gratitude to the col-
leagues whose intellectual support and engagement in our project was
extremely motivating and helpful - the members of the Interdisciplin-
ary Center for Narratology (ICN) at the University of Hamburg, and
those of its precursor, the DFG 'Narratology Research Group' (FGN).
Among these are two colleagues we would like to mention by name:
Rolf Krause, a steadfast and critical ally in matters equally narrative,
digital and humanist, and Giinter Dammann who, among other things,
introduced us to narratology and who enabled the project as a whole.
Both played a decisive role in discussing and selecting the articles and
in conceptualizing the anthology which we have edited and which you
now hold in your hands.
32
Mam, 235 in the current volume.
HANS REICHENBACH
But Philip ceased to think of her a moment after he had settled down in his
carriage. He thought only of the future. He had written to Mrs. Otter, the
massiere to whom Hayward had given him an introduction, and had in his
pocket an invitation to tea on the following day.
The series of events recounted here in the simple past determine the
point of reference as lying before the point of speech. Some individual
events, like the settling down in the carriage, the writing of the letter,
2 Hans Reichenbach
and the giving of the introduction, precede the point of reference and
are therefore related in the past perfect. Another illustration for these
time relations may be given by a historical narrative, a quotation from
Macaulay:
In 1678 the whole face of things had changed ... eighteen years of misgov-
ernment had made the ... majority desirous to obtain security for their liber-
ties at any risk. The fury of their returning loyalty had spent itself in its first
outbreak. In a very few months they had hanged and half-hanged, quartered
and emboweled, enough to satisfy them. The Roundhead party seemed to
be not merely overcome, but too much broken and scattered ever to rally
again. Then commenced the reflux of public opinion. The nation began to
find out to what a man it had intrusted without conditions all its dearest in-
terests, on what a man it had lavished all its fondest affection.
The point of reference is here the year 1678. Events of this year are re-
lated in the simple past, such as the commencing of the reflux of public
opinion, and the beginning of the discovery concerning the character of
the king. The events preceding this time point are given in the past per-
fect, such as the change in the face of things, the outbreaks of cruelty,
the nation's trust in the king.
In some tenses, two of the three points are simultaneous. Thus, in
the simple past, the point of the event and the point of reference are
simultaneous, and both are before the point of speech; the use of the
simple past in the above quotation shows this clearly. This distin-
guishes the simple past from the present perfect. In the statement 'I
have seen Charles' the event is also before the point of speech, but it is
referred to a point simultaneous with the point of speech; i.e., the
points of speech and reference coincide. This meaning of the present
perfect may be illustrated by the following quotation from Keats:
Comparing this with the above quotations we notice that here obvi-
ously the past events are seen, not from a reference point situated also
in the past, but from a point of reference which coincides with the point
of speech. This is the reason that the words of Keats are not of a narrat-
ive type but affect us with the immediacy of a direct report to the read-
er. We see that we need three time points even for the distinction of
tenses which, in a superficial consideration, seem to concern only two
The Tenses of Verbs 3
1
In J.O.H. Jespersen's excellent analysis of grammar (The Philosophy of Grammar.
New York: Holt 1924) I find the three-point structure indicated for such tenses as
the past perfect and the future perfect (256), but not applied to the interpretation of
the other tenses. This explains the difficulties which even Jespersen has in
distinguishing the present perfect from the simple past (269). He sees correctly the
close connection between the present tense and the present perfect, recognizable in
such sentences as 'now I have eaten enough'. But he gives a rather vague definition
of the present perfect and calls it 'a retrospective variety of the present'.
4 Hans Reichenbach
The extended tenses are sometimes used to indicate, not duration of the
event, but repetition. Thus we say 'women are wearing larger hats this
year' and mean that this is true for a great many instances. Whereas Eng-
lish expresses the extended tense by the use of the present participle, oth-
er languages have developed special suffixes for this tense. Thus the
Turkish language possesses a tense of this kind, called muzari, which in-
dicates repetition or duration, with the emphasis on repetition, including
past and future cases. This tense is represented by the diagram
2
Turkish vowels with two dots are pronounced like the German vowels ' o' and 'ii'.
3
This shift of meaning is explainable as follows: One typical case of the past is
stated, and to the listener is left the inductive inference that under similar
conditions the same will be repeated in the future. A similar shift of meaning is
given in the English 'Faint heart never won fair lady'. Cf. W.W. Goodwin: Greek
Grammar. Boston: Ginn 1930, 275.
The Tenses of Verbs 5
In the sense of this schema we say, for instance, T have known him for
ten years'. If duration of the event is not meant, the English language
then uses the simple past instead of the present perfect, as in T saw him
ten years ago'. German and French would use the present perfect here.
When several sentences are combined to form a compound sen-
tence, the tenses of the various clauses are adjusted to one another by
certain rules which the grammarians call the rules for the sequence of
6 Hans Reichenbach
tenses. We can interpret these rules as the principle that, although the
events referred to in the clauses may occupy different time points, the
reference point should be the same for all clauses - a principle which,
we shall say, demands the permanence of the reference point. Thus, the
tenses of the sentence, 'I had mailed the letter, when John came and
told me the news', may be diagramed as follows:
Here the three reference points coincide. It would be incorrect to say, 'I
had mailed the letter when John has come'; in such a combination the
reference point would have been changed. As another example, con-
sider the compound sentence, 'I have not decided which train I shall
take'. That this sentence satisfies the rule of the permanence of the ref-
erence point is seen from the following diagram:
Here it would be incorrect to say: 'I did not decide which train I shall
take.'
When the reference point is in the past, but the event coincides with
the point of speech, a tense R — S, E is required. In this sense, the form
'he would do' is used, which can be regarded as derived from the
simple future 'he will do' by a back-shift of the two points R and E. We
say, for instance, 'I did not know that you would be here'; this sentence
represents the diagram:
The form 'I did not know that you were here' has a somewhat different
meaning; it is used correctly only if the event of the man's being here
extends to include the past time for which the T did not know' is
stated, i.e., if the man was already here when I did not know it. Incid-
entally, in these sentences the forms 'would be' and 'were' do not have
a modal function expressing irreality; i.e., they do not represent a con-
ditional or a subjunctive, since the event referred to is not questioned.
The nonmodal function is illustrated by the sentence 'I did not know
The Tenses of Verbs 7
that he was here', for which the form 'that he were here' appears incor-
rect.
When a time determination is added, such as is given by words like
'now' or 'yesterday', or by a nonreflexive symbol like 'November 7,
1944', it is referred, not to the event, but to the reference point of the
sentence. We say, 'I met him yesterday'; that the word 'yesterday'
refers here to the event obtains only because the points of reference and
of event coincide. When we say, 'I had met him yesterday'; what was
yesterday is the reference point, and the meeting may have occurred the
day before yesterday. We shall speak, therefore, of the positional use
of the reference point; the reference point is used here as the carrier of
the time position. Such usage, at least, is followed by the English lan-
guage. Similarly, when time points are compared by means of words
like 'when', 'before', or 'after', it is the reference points to which the
comparison refers directly, not the events. Thus in the above example
(1) the time points stated as identical by the word 'when' are the refer-
ence points of the three clauses, whereas the event of the first clause
precedes that of the second and the third. Or consider the sentence,
'How unfortunate! Now that John tells me this I have mailed the letter'.
The time stated here as identical with the time of John's telling the
news is not the mailing of the letter but the reference point of the
second clause, which is identical with the point of speech; and we have
here the schema:
For this reason it would be incorrect to say, 'Now that John tells me
this I mailed the letter'.
If the time relation of the reference points compared is not identity,
but time sequence, i.e., if one is said to be before the other, the rule of
the permanence of the reference point can thus no longer be main-
tained. In 'he telephoned before he came' Rl is said to be before R2;
but, at least, the tenses used have the same structure. It is different with
the example, 'he was healthier when I saw him than he is now'. Here
we have the structure:
In such cases, the rule of the permanence of the reference point is re-
placed by the more general rule of the positional use of the reference
point. The first rule, therefore, must be regarded as representing the
special case where the time relation between the reference points com-
pared is identity.
Incidentally, the English usage of the simple past where other
languages use the present perfect may be a result of the strict adherence
to the principle of the positional use of the reference point. When we
say, 'this is the man who drove the car', we use the simple past in the
second clause because the positional principle would compel us to do
so as soon as we add a time determination, as in 'this is the man who
drove the car at the time of the accident'. The German uses here the
present perfect, and the above sentence would be translated into 'dies
ist der Mann, der den Wagen gefahren hat'. Though this appears more
satisfactory than the English version, it leads to a disadvantage when a
time determination is added. The German is then compelled to refer to
the time determination, not to the reference point, but to the event, as in
'dies ist der Mann, der den Wagen zur Zeit des Ungliicksfalles
gefahren hat'. In such cases, a language can satisfy either the principle
of the permanence of the reference point or that of the positional use of
the reference point, but not both.
The use of the future tenses is sometimes combined with certain de-
viations from the original meaning of the tenses. In the sentence 'Now I
shall go' the simple future has the meaning S,R — E; this follows from
the principle of the positional use of the reference point. However, in
the sentence T shall go tomorrow' the same principle compels us to in-
terpret the future tense in the form S—R,E. The simple future, then, is
capable of two interpretations, and since there is no prevalent usage of
the one or the other we cannot regard one interpretation as the correct
one.4 Further deviations occur in tense sequences. Consider the sen-
tence: 'I shall take your photograph when you come'. The form 'when
you will come' would be more correct; but we prefer to use here the
present tense instead of the future. This usage may be interpreted as
follows. First, the future tense is used in the first clause in the meaning
S — R,E; second, in the second clause the point of speech is neglected.
The neglect is possible because the word 'when' refers the reference
point of the second clause clearly to a future event. A similar anomaly
is found in the sentence, 'We shall hear the record when we have
4
The distinction between the French future forms je vais voir and je verrai may
perhaps be regarded as representing the distinction between the order S, R — E
and the order S — R, E.
The Tenses of Verbs 9
dined', where the present perfect is used instead of the future perfect
'when we shall have dined'.5
Turning to the general problem of the time order of the three points,
we see from our tables that the possibilities of ordering the three time
points are not exhausted. There are on the whole 13 possibilities, but
the number of recognized grammatical tenses in English is only 6. If
we wish to systematize the possible tenses we can proceed as follows.
We choose the point of speech as the starting point; relative to it the
point of reference can be in the past, at the same time, or in the future.
This furnishes three possibilities. Next we consider the point of the
event; it can be before, simultaneous with, or after the reference point.
We thus arrive at 3 • 3 = 9 possible forms, which we call fundamental
forms. Further differences of form result only when the position of the
event relative to the point of speech is considered; this position, how-
ever, is usually irrelevant. Thus the form S — E — R can be distin-
guished from the form S, E — R; with respect to relations between S
and R on the one hand and between R and E on the other hand, how-
ever, these two forms do not differ, and we therefore regard them as
representing the same fundamental form. Consequently, we need not
deal with all the 13 possible forms and may restrict ourselves to the 9
fundamental forms.
For the 9 fundamental forms we suggest the following terminology.
The position of R relative to S is indicated by the words 'past',
'present', and 'future'. The position of E relative to R is indicated by
the words 'anterior', 'simple', and 'posterior', the word 'simple' being
used for the coincidence of R and E. We thus arrive at the following
names:
5 In some books on grammar we find the remark that the transition from direct to
indirect discourse is accompanied by a shift of the tense from the present to the
past. This shift, however, must not be regarded as a change in the meaning of the
tense; it follows from the change in the point of speech. Thus T am cold' has a
point of speech lying before that of T said that I was cold'.
10 Hans Reichenbach
We see that more than one structure obtains only for the two retro-
gressive tenses, the posterior past and the anterior future, in which the
direction S — R is opposite to the direction R — E. If we wish to dis-
tinguish among the individual structures we refer to them as the first,
second, and third posterior past or anterior future.
The tenses for which a language has no established forms are ex-
pressed by transcriptions. We say, for instance, 'I shall be going to see
him' and thus express the posterior future S — R — E by speaking, not
directly of the event E, but of the act of preparation for it; in this way
we can at least express the time order for events which closely succeed
the point of reference. Languages which have a future participle have
direct forms for the posterior future. Thus the Latin 'abiturus ero' rep-
resents this tense, meaning verbally 'I shall be one of those who will
leave'. For the posterior past R — E — S the form 'he would do' is
used, for instance in 'I did not expect that he would win the race'. We
met with this form in an above example where we interpreted it as the
structure R — S,E; but this structure belongs to the same fundamental
form as R — E — S and may therefore be denoted by the same name.
Instead of the form 'he would do', which grammar does not officially
recognize as a tense,6 transcriptions are frequently used. Thus we say,
'I did not expect that he was going to win the race', or, in formal writ-
ing, 'the king lavished his favor on the man who was to kill him'. In the
6
It is sometimes classified as a tense of the conditional mood, corresponding to the
French conditional. In the examples considered above, however, it is not a
conditional but a tense in the indicative mood.
The Tenses of Verbs 11
7
In Old English no future tense existed, and the present tense was used both for the
expression of the present and the future. The word 'shall' was used only in the
meaning of obligation. In Middle English the word 'shall' gradually assumed the
function of expressing the future tense. Cf The New English Dictionary, Oxford
1914, Vol. VIII, Pt. 2, S-Sh, p. 609, col. 3.
8
This mode of expressing the future tense was preceded by a similar development of
the Latin language, originating in vulgar Latin. Thus instead of the form 'dabo',
meaning the future tense T shall give', the form 'dare habeo' was used, which
means T have to give'. Cf. Ferdinand Brunot: Precis de grammaire historique de
la langue francaise. Paris: Masson 1899, 434.
9
This is even more apparent when a two-place function is used. Thus T have
finished my work' means originally T have my work finished', i.e., T possess my
work as a finished one'. Cf. The New English Dictionary. Oxford 1901, Vol. V, Pt.
I, H, p. 127, col. 1-2. The German still uses the original word order, as in Teh habe
meine Arbeit beendet'.
PETER BIERI
poral logic, even if we let it use the letter 't\ Accordingly, the same is
true for a sequence of representations without indices: it is a de facto
temporal order, that is to say, the order of its causal genesis. But it is
not yet a consciousness of the world as existing in a temporal order.
What is missing in this consciousness is the representation of time
modes. To represent the world order as genuinely temporal means to
represent it from a temporal perspective that is continuously dislocat-
ing itself, or from a temporal point of view that is continuously chan-
ging. It means to represent certain events as present or happening now,
and others as past resp. in the future. And it means to have a conscious-
ness and knowledge that events which are in the future from a certain
point in time, are the present at a later point in time, and can be in the
past at an even later point in time.
But what do we have to supply to something that is equipped with
the ability to represent, in order to enable it to have this temporal per-
spective? Obviously, it is not enough to simply hand over the vocabu-
lary of time modes to our computer, without adding something else. It
then could print out: Atl now I, Bt2 now I, etc. And we could under-
stand these utterances as expressions of consciousness of the present
time. But this is not true for the computer. In order to understand that
the expression 'is now' is an expression of a time mode, one has to un-
derstand the contrast between 'is now', 'was' and 'will be'. And the
computer lacks this understanding, so that 'now' is a mere word to it.
What is it that is still missing in order to arrive at an understanding
of time modes? What, for example, is missing in order to distinguish
between present and past events? One is tempted to say that the com-
puter will be able to achieve this as soon as we provide it with traces of
earlier representations. Certain representations that belong to a being
at a given point in time are causal consequences, are after effects of
earlier representations, and these traces of the history of representa-
tions of a being - one could perhaps argue - constitute its conscious-
ness of the past. They constitute its memories. In this way, the memory
theorists of British empiricism concluded: there are active, living rep-
resentations that constitute our consciousness of the presence, and
there are faded representations that make, as traces of earlier represent-
ations, a reference to the past possible. This is the assumption that a be-
ing can read from the content of its representation - e.g., from its in-
tensity - whether it is dealing with the representation of a present or of
a past event. But this is an error: our computer, for example, will alloc-
ate the same time index to the content - the intentional object - of a
perception, and to a representation that we can understand as memory
if both representations appear at the same time. Differences in the rep-
Time Experience and Personhood 17
plained by the connection between the history of the world and the his-
tory of my representation.
Time consciousness pre-supposes self-awareness. In order to not
just organise the events in the world - like the computer - according to
an abstract relation, but to represent the events as a story, I need the
ability to represent my representation of the world themselves, my
autobiography of representations. Consequently, I need representations
of a second order, or, as it is called, metarepresentations. In the con-
sciousness of the time modes, I do not just use my representations, I
also mention them. And I quote them as temporally organised, that is as
organised among themselves as well as organised in relation to what is
represented in them - the world events. This is what Kant meant when
he said that time is the form of the outward as well as the inward mean-
ing.6
Metarepresentations are representations of representations, that is to
say, they are representations whose intentional object is a representa-
tion itself. In a metarepresentation, I quote three aspects of my repres-
entations: (1) their temporal position relative to the events of the
world, and relative to other representations; (2) their intentional object;
(3) their mode: if we are dealing with a perception, an imagination or
already with a memory. In this way, I can produce a continuum of in-
terlaced memories, as described by Husserl in the case of retention.7
Now I can represent an earlier representation (remember) that is a
memory in itself, in other words, a representation of an even earlier
representation that, again, can be a memory whose intentional object is
also quoted, etc. In our consciousness, this iteration factually breaks off
at one point. But logically, there is no limit to the iteration of metarep-
resentations, as there is no limit to the iteration of metalanguages.
When we provided traces of earlier representations to our computer,
it seemed at first as if we had already endowed it with genuine memor-
ies. But then it transpired that it was only traces. We can now under-
stand why that is so: memory is the term for a representation in which
not only an earlier world event, but also an earlier representation of
this event is being represented. And the computer - the way I described
it - did not have this ability to quote itself.
At this point, we have reached an intermediary result: as physical
beings we are objects whose elementary relation to the world is charac-
terised by the fact that we change with time and consequently, have a
history. As persons, in addition, we are beings that have a conscious-
6
I. Kant: Critique of Pure Reason, B 49ff.
7
E. Husserl: On the Phenomenology of the Consciousness of Internal Time.
Dordrecht 1991, §§ 10-12.
Time Experience and Personhood 19
ness in the sense that we can represent our environment. This con-
sciousness - according to its causal genesis - is in fact organised tem-
porally. Furthermore, as persons, we have a consciousness of this order
as a temporal order, as we can represent time modes and thus gain a
temporal perspective. And we have this time consciousness because we
have self-awareness: because we have metarepresentations and can
quote our own history of representations by connecting it to the history
of the world.
This result has an important epistemological consequence. If in
terms of our time consciousness we have to distinguish between the
history of the world and the history of our representations, then we
have to distinguish between the happening of an event, or the being of
an object in this world, on one side, and their being represented on the
other side. And this means no less than that in order to have a con-
sciousness of time, we have to be epistemological realists. By defini-
tion, this realism includes the conviction that the being of an entity in
the world is something different from its being represented by us: that
its esse is not percipi, or, more general, repraesentari. And whoever is
convinced of this, also believes in the following two assumptions
which are fundamental to our common sense conception of the world:
(1) there is a diachronic continuous existence of entities in this world
even when they are not represented. (Note that this assumption does
not hold for certain phenomena of the inner world, like, for example
pain: pain that is not felt does not exist). (2) There can be a difference
between the way we represent an entity, and the way the entity is. In
other words, a realistic consciousness makes a distinction between ap-
pearance and reality. (A distinction that makes no sense with pain:
pain is the way it feels). In order to represent time, we have to present
the world as a realistic world. In other words: an idealistic conscious-
ness (one that conceptualises all entities according to the logic of pain)
cannot be a real consciousness of time. And as our consciousness is a
true time consciousness, idealism is wrong. Persons are necessarily
realists. To them, it is no option to be an idealist. To understand one-
self as a person, and at the same time to claim that one is an idealist is
an incoherent position.
As realists, it is our epistemic goal to distinguish between appear-
ance and reality. Firstly, this is true for the presence. Persons try to find
out how objects they are confronted with really are. They attempt to
make a difference between the perhaps deceptive aspects of their rep-
resentation and the real attributes of the objects. They also try to do the
same in their encounter with the past: we want to distinguish between
the way the past really was and the way that we remember it - how it
20 Peter Bieri
seems to have been. And here, one can discover a second connection
between having a time consciousness and the way how we have to rep-
resent the world8: the attempt to distinguish between appearance and
reality in the past can only be successful if we organise the world
events according to causal dependencies, which I understand here, as I
said before, simply as contra factual dependencies. In order to recon-
struct the real course of the past and to disclose errors of memory, I
have to be able to make use of causal inferences that tell me how the
event sequences of the past have to have been. For let us assume I do
not have causal inferences at my disposal. Then I have the belief foaL
there could be a difference between the past events and my representa-
tions of them. But I cannot work with this difference. It is true that I
have representations of present and past. But I can use none of these
representations as an evidence for another. I have the impression that
the past was so and so. But I cannot verify this impression. I want to
make a distinction between appearance and reality of the past, but I
cannot do so. I have a concept for which there is no set of rules to ap-
ply: I have an incoherent consciousness.
However, if I have at my disposal the idea of causal dependencies
between events, and thus of causal inferences, I can construct an ob-
jective time order within the past. For example, if I know the causal
connection between fire and ashes, then I can know that in a certain
past context the ashes cannot have existed before the fire, even if it
may appear to me like that in my memory. And now I can establish an
objective time order not only within the events in the world but also
within my past representations. When I assume that my representations
- perceptions - of fire and ashes depend causally on the existence of
fire and ashes, then I can know that my representation of ashes cannot
have anteceded the representation of fire, even if I might present it that
way in my metarepresentations. In other words, if, and only if, I think
of the realistic world as causally structured, and if I regard myself as
causally implicated in this world, then I can reach my epistemic goal
and distinguish between the real and the apparent image of the past.
Then, and only then, I can distinguish between experienced and object-
ive time. And, of course, this is nothing else than the argument of
Kant's'Second Analogy'.9
At this point I can finally return to the topic of 'self-awareness'. I
argued above that a genuine consciousness of time is only possible be-
8
For the following, cf. Jonathan Bennett: 'Analytical Transcendental Arguments,' in:
P. Bieri, R.-P. Horstmann, L. Krttger (eds.): Transcendental Arguments and
Science. Dordrecht 1979, 45-63.
9
I. Kant: Critique of Pure Reason, B 233ff.
Time Experience and Personhood 21
tinguish the objective time of this world from the experienced time, it
has to represent the world as causally organised; (4) and in order to be
able to do this, it has to understand its identity as an objective identity.
These four conditions together constitute the very formal structure of
the temporality of persons.
stories that I, as it were, freeze the identity that it suggests. In that case,
my presence - the way and how I feel and think now - reproduces in a
certain sense only past presences - the way and how I felt and thought
in the past. In other words: I do not give the present reality the chance
to change me and to correct me in my self-image. (2) The conscious-
ness of the presence is covered, flooded by memories into which I sink
and where I remain. This can, for example, happen with the death of a
person who was very closely intertwined with our identity. We then
substitute the past for the present and have the perception 'that life
stands still'. (3) We suppress our past and separate it from us, so that it
is no longer accessible to us in our memory. Under this condition it re-
mains causally effective, and has its considerable causal effects espe-
cially because it is suppressed and defies appropriation and accom-
plishment. In such a case, one can say that we do not live enough in the
past. But in the end, as Freud has taught us to see, it ends up being the
same: our present is so much under the dictation of the past that real
consciousness of the present is no longer possible.
In the same way as I can miss my present because I live - in one of
these ways - too much in the past, I can also miss it by living too much
in the future and by having the perception that life can always only be-
gin the day after tomorrow. In this case, I substitute the present with
the future, so that the present never really counts. I am only interested
in my future presence, how it appears in my projects and how I imagine
it in my anticipatory imagination. My identity, projected into the fu-
ture, quasi suffocates my present. And that carries a subtle danger: the
future person that I wish to be is one that has grown into the future
identity by allowing itself to be changed by the proceeding moments of
presences. If I, however, as it were misappropriate or bracket my life in
the meantime because of a fixation on the future present moments, then
I will be the old (same) person when the future point in time arrives,
i.e., has become present. And I will not be able to slip into the identity
which was imagined for me in my project.
One misses one's presence if one only lives the present moments as
a past or future and never as a present presence. What does it mean to
avoid this danger? I only know very vague descriptions of this ideal
that we have here. One of them is that one should be open to the
present reality and get involved with it. Then there is talk about the
ability or the preparedness to let oneself be - temporarily - over-
whelmed by the present and get lost in it. Another thought that we find
in the philosophical tradition, mainly with Kierkegaard, is the idea that
everything depends on living in the present moment: in a way, as if life
would come to an end in the next moment. I, myself, believe that this is
28 Peter Bieri
what it is all about in the end: in the same way, as consciousness of the
past without explanatory story is blind, consciousness of the present is
blind without implicit connection to an appropriation story and without
a projection of my identity into the future. At the same time, these two
dimensions that I need in order to embed also the present into a her-
meneutic unity of my life harbor the danger that I miss my present
presence. Therefore, we have to find a balance towards our presence
between blindness and lost chances. This balance is an aspect of what
we call equanimity: the security that I can, whatever happens to me,
place these happenings into a hermeneutic unity of my life, and at the
same time I can have the strength to not allow my life to be suffocated
either by memory or by my worries about my future. We lose this bal-
ance again and again and have to search for it repeatedly. And if we re-
gard this balance as an ideal of personhood this means that we lose the
state of being a person again and again and have to regain it again and
again. This is a basic fact of our conscious life.
PETER JANICH
0. Introduction
When it comes to the classical topic of time, it seems philosophers'
clocks move differently. Insights brought forward in the last one hun-
dred years in the context of the linguistic and pragmatic turn of philo-
sophy are noticeably ignored: the demarcations of problems have be-
come increasingly blurred, the answers less clear. But above all, it ap-
pears that which or whose problems should be solved by a philosophy
of time is out of sight. However humble these solutions might be, and
with whatever relative reservations they are suggested - the solutions
brought forward have to at least claim transsubjective plausibility.
In the following, some exemplary remarks intend to point out the
sense in which contemporary philosophy seems to have lost its purpose,
and lead to a second step in which an assumption about the root causes
of this development is made: not only the linguistic distinctions of time
itself but also the epistemological distinctions of how to describe, ex-
emplify or explain time lack sufficient explication and reflection on the
conditions of plausibility, and thus these very reflections and answers
have lost their place in life. In the next chapter, a methodological recon-
struction of our temporal distinctions in the framework of social action
and discourse will be given. By doing this, a life-experience related
(lebensweltliche) base for scientific and philosophical theories of time
will be brought forward as well. This will finally lead to a conclusion
concerning realistic and ontological concepts of time. The point of ref-
erence remains the question why we as human beings need 'time' in our
actions and in our discourse - and accordingly seek to provide those
linguistic creations which are also object to philosophical debate.
30 Peter Janich
7
B.Russell: 'On the Experience of Time', in: The Monist 25 (1915), 212-223.
8
W. James: 'The Perception of Time', in: Journal of Speculative Philosophy 20
(1886), 374^107.
Constituting Time through Action and Discourse 33
9
P. Bieri: Zeit und Zeiterfahrung. Exposition eines Problembereichs. Frankfurt/M.
1972.
10
P. Bieri, I.e., 182 [our translation].
34 Peter Janich
from the fact that no nameable, clearly defined purpose is being fol-
lowed. Hovering above everything is what might have beruled for dec-
ades as Logical Empirism's slogan: 'The philosophical tradition has
failed. The modern mathematical sciences are right, they are beautiful
and good. Let us develop a new philosophy out of their analysis.'
In no way should the merits of analytical-empirical philosophy be
belittled. (By the way, traditional Hegelians, for example, would have
no problem including the suggestions of the following chapters among
their 'analytical philosophy'). Also, on the other hand, the defects of
the philosophical tradition - which are multiplied by the defects of a
historical-philological hermeneutics without orientation - should not be
denied. But the way the 'problem of time' is treated in Mainzer's lu-
cidly written overview gains the character of a new paradox, that of an
un-philosophical philosophy. Not only does the purpose and means of a
philosophy of time remain unmentioned but epistemological and sci-
entific theoretical rationales, criticisms, refutations, reconstructions and
judgments are avoided. With this, philosophy as purest doxography
from a philosophical distance appears as the latest form of philosophy
of time. Against this background it becomes an urgent task to attempt
any new systematic suggestion in philosophy of time only after having
revived the awareness for its problems, an awareness that demands
more than yet another gush into the waters of existing theories of time.
und Handlung', in: Hans Poser (ed.): Erfahrung und Beobachtung. Erkenntnis-
theoretische und wissenschaftstheoretische Untersuchungen zur Erkenntnis-
begriindung. Berlin 1992, 13-34; P. Janich: Erkennen ah Handeln. Von der
konstruktiven Wissenschaftstheorie zur Erkenntnistheorie. Erlangen, Jena, 1993.
23
See D. Hartmann: Konstruktive Fragelogik. Vom Elementarsatz zur Logik von
Frage undAntwort. Mannheim, Wien, Zurich 1990, esp. 37, 38.
42 Peter Janich
user of everyday language, this case also does not present any philo-
sophical problems. We learn in actual performances of action, e.g.
when opening a bottle and pouring out of it, the words earlier and later
predicatively, and we can then in the future also apply them to new ex-
amples of sequences of actions and events in a predicative way.
(Consequently, the immense philosophical literature that followed
McTaggart's essay on A-sequences and B-sequences as the modal and
ordinal time sequences, which was quoted above, is merely owed to a
hurdle of reflection in analytical language philosophy: in the methodic-
al reconstruction given here, the inability to map the two rows onto
each other simply results from the fact that all utterances which refer to
the situation of utterance itself constitute a methodically prior way of
speaking compared to the predicative and ordinal mode in which one
can speak about the order of events independent of the situation of ut-
terance. Thus, the reason for the inability to map the rows mutually lies
only in the strict logical disjunction of a discourse that is dependent and
a discourse that is independent of its situation of utterance.)
If linguistic instruments for the organization of our actions exist in
modal and ordinal regard, we can introduce the discourse of duration
as a methodical third. In this way, one and the same scheme of action
can be actualised at different celerity, e.g. dramatically in the case of a
race. But archaic distance indications like a day's journey, area indica-
tions in a farmer's day's work or speed indicators when navigating
ships are also pre- and non-scientific examples for the fact that we
judge our actions and experiences and, generally, movements according
to the faster or the slower and thus, actions and events according to
their (estimated) relative duration.
As we live in a civilization that is dictated by clock time, speed and
tempo of life, it may be difficult to imagine a way of life in which not
even a roughly measured clock time played a dominating role in the
daily routine. For example, the complaint of an Egyptian from the time
of about 2,500 A.D. has been preserved in which he regrets the intro-
duction of water clocks because now he has to eat whenever it is time
and he is no longer allowed to eat when he is hungry.24
24
On the history of calculation of time (according to natural events) and me asuring of
time (according to artificial events) see P. Janich: Die Protophysik der Zeit.
Konstruktive Begrundung und Geschichte der Zeitmessung Frankfurt/M. 1980,
221-245. W. Deppert impressively proves which errors occur even in
historiography of time measuring when the own linguistic means in respect of time
have not been reconstructed methodologically. Deppert speaks on water clocks in
their reception within history of science: "Whoever [...] takes our present concept
of time for granted - a concept, however, that is not before our eyes in full clarity -
44 Peter Janich
simulation of the course of the sun by the speed of the clock hand - that
is in western culture and in the northern hemisphere, from east to west,
and with double speed when it comes to 12-hour clock faces. Clocks
for everyday use are nothing else but instruments that copy a natural
event, which conveniently is the rotation of the earth, even in a modern,
globalised technology. Only Kant dethroned the rotation of the earth as
time norm with his indication of the slowdown of the earth rotation be-
cause of the tidal friction. Only after this argument, which proved the
exemplary reference of time measuring to a natural event as being open
to criticism, do the sciences have the epistemological problem of defin-
ing the motion of a clock in a way that it can be controlled and technic-
ally reproduced without going back to empirical insights which can
only be found with the aid of clocks. But the sciences did not recognise
this, neither in the classical nor in the relativistic physics.
It is true that Albert Einstein's special theory of relativity rightly at-
tacked the deficits in the definition of an absolute concept of time in
classical mechanics, and it rightly demanded programmatically that
physicists should not stick to 'metaphysical monsters' (Ernst Mach) but
to the observable. But the enthusiasm of the physicists for the relativist-
ic physics (and today, probably also the cult around the person of Ein-
stein) cover up how strongly the relativization of simultaneity and time
order to an observer include a naturalistic misunderstanding: again nat-
ural events are being chosen as events that measure time, and not events
that man has artificially produced with the explicit purpose of generat-
ing universal reproducibility. With this, physics of special relativity,
and, by the way, contemporary physics in general, also do not solve the
problem that is decisive in physical but also in every other scientific re-
search: the difference between useful and defective clocks. Defective
clocks are also subject to so-called natural laws, and cosequently, the
aspect of naturalness or the laws of nature cannot define which clock
would be suitable (failure-free) in order to sample empirical data. Only
human purposes and, in the sciences, explicit norms which define the
purposes of the measuring of time, can achieve a distinction between
malfunctioning and interference-free clocks. These insights were ac-
quired and founded in the protophysics of time.26
Consequently, a philosophy of the time cannot simply adapt the lan-
guage usage of physics resp. of the sciences, which is shaped by scient-
ism and naturalism. Rather, physics, in its discourses on measured time,
owes its semantics - against its naturalistic self-misunderstanding - to
its technical fundament, more precisely, to a highly developed art of
26
See P. Janich: 'Hat Ernst Mach die Protophysik der Zeit kritisiert?', in: P. Janich
(ed.): Protophysik heute, special issue of Philosophia Naturalis 1 (1985), 51-60.
46 Peter Janich
clock making which knows how to realise the purposes of time meas-
urements for use in physics.
With this we have explained, at least in an overview, how the lin-
guistic instruments for temporal distinction of the three aspects of time,
the modal, the ordinal and the durative, can be defined step by step and
in a methodical order, explicitly and without circular argument or a gap
in reasoning. At no point do we have to formulate or accept a hypothes-
is of the kind 'there is time outside human consciousness'. In fact, all
discourse in terms of temporal distinctions is embedded in our actions
which create the respective temporal structures, in our daily lives
(Lebenswelt) as well as in the natural sciences which emanate from it.
In short, we would not be able to speak about the ability to act (which is
assumed as an acquired ability) if we were not able to always do this in
temporal distinctions, and we could not do so if we were not able to act
in a temporally structured way.
Up to now, other aspects of time, e.g. psychological or cultural his-
torical have not been mentioned. But these cannot be primarily con-
stitutive for the reconstruction of time language because in order to de-
scribe them, you already have to make use of temporal distinctions of
everyday language - as well as in experimental psychology as in all
cultural theory. Furthermore, wherever psychologists perform their ex-
periments, they even need availability of a scientific kind of time meas-
urement.
Even an 'ontology' that speculates on the being of time before the re-
cognition of time cannot avoid this condition. Temporary conditions of
a modal, ordinal or durative kind are not only, to put it in Aristotelian
terms, something connected to motion but, phrased in a modern way,
something that is created purposefully by language and acting in the
motion of action and differentiation itself: a construct. Whoever wants
to claim something different would have to achieve the impossible, to
speak about time without speaking about time.
ROBIN L E POIDEVIN
1. Introduction
The central question of this paper is how we should represent the rela-
tionship between past, present and future on the one hand, and the rela-
tions of temporal precedence and simultaneity on the other. In particu-
lar, should we think of the 'tenseless' relations between events, such as
today's breakfast being before tomorrow's tea, as dependent upon, or
determined by, 'tensed' facts about those events, such as today's break-
fast being past and tomorrow's tea being future? I am going to explore
this issue by considering two thought-experiments about time. These
experiments are of a topological nature: that is, they concern what we
might call the shape of time. Another, related, question concerns the le-
gitimacy of using topological thought-experiments in this context.
Both questions are prompted by a well known discussion of McTag-
gart's, in which he attempts to prove the unreality of time. I shall begin,
then, with his treatment of the topic.
every time-series would be real, while the distinctions of past, present and
future would only have a meaning within each series, and would not, there-
fore, be taken as absolutely real. There would be, for example, many
presents. Now, of course, many points of time can be present. In each time-
series many points are present, but they must be present successively. And
the presents of the different time-series would not be successive, since they
are not in the same time. And different presents, it would be said, cannot be
real unless they are successive. So the different time-series, which are real,
must be able to exist independently of the distinction between past, present
and future.1
1
J.E. McTaggart, The Nature of Existence (Cambridge UP, 1927), ch. 33,
'Time', repr. as 'The Unreality of Time' in: R. Le Poidevin and M. MacBeath
(eds.), The Philosophy of Time (Oxford UP, 1993), 23-34, 30.
2
A discussion of this and other non-standard topologies for time can be
found in W.H. Newton-Smith, The Structure of Time (London: Routledge & Kegan
Paul, 1980).
Time, Tense and Topology 51
How does this pose a problem for the A-series? As McTaggart rep-
resents it, the assumption on which the objection rests is that an A-ser-
ies must be unique, in that reality can only contain one A-series. But
there cannot be a unique A-series if time is disunified.
In presenting the objection, McTaggart does not explain why any-
one should suppose that the A-series is necessarily unique, and in dis-
missing the objection he simply denies the supposition (ibid.):
3. Reductionist Programmes
When, in The Nature of Existence, he first introduces the distinction
between the two kinds of time-series, McTaggart does not talk (at least
explicitly) of reducibility: he simply says that the existence of the B-
series depends on that of the A-series. Later in the book (p. 271), when
he returns to the subject of time, he is more specific:
The term P is earlier than the term Q if it is ever past while Q is present, or
present while Q is future.
This is not the only reductive account available, as we can see by com-
paring the above with McTaggart's schema. I shall consider three pos-
sible analyses in this paper. But whatever the details of the reduction,
tensed theory seeks to reduce B-series facts to A-series facts. This part
of tensed theory I shall call the 'reductionist thesis':
We might note that the existential thesis and the reductionist thesis are
logically independent of each other. The reductionist thesis need not be
read as asserting the existence of A-series facts. We could read it as a
conditional: if there are B-series facts, then they are determined by A-
3
For proponents of this view, see, e.g., A.N. Prior, Past, Present and Future
(Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1967), and 'The Notion of the Present', in: Studium
Generate 23 (1970), 245-248; A. Loizou, The Reality of Time (Aldershot: Gower,
1986); J.R. Lucas, The Future (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1989); Q Smith, Language
and Time (Oxford UP, 1993).
Time, Tense and Topology 53
series facts. It may turn out that there are no A-series facts (perhaps, as
McTaggart argued, the notion of such a fact involves a contradiction),
in which case the reductionist thesis entails that there cannot be any B-
series facts either. So we could affirm the reductionist thesis and reject
the existential thesis. This is McTaggart's own position. Conversely,
one could affirm the existential thesis and reject the reductionist thesis.
If this implies, however, that A-series and B-series facts exist inde-
pendently of each other, or that there are in reality A-series facts but no
B-series facts, this is not a very promising line to take. That there is
some relationship between the A-series and the B-series can hardly be
denied. And the reductionist thesis is a very plausible one. If we say, of
three events, that e, is past, e2 present and e3 future, then we surely im-
ply that d is earlier than e2 and both are earlier than e3. The two theses,
then, make natural companions. Without the one, the other looks much
less safe.
Both theses are denied by the tenseless theory of time.4 According
to this theory, A-series, or tensed, statements are true in virtue of B-ser-
ies, or tenseless, facts. Here is atypical schema:
Any token u of the type 'It is presently the case that/?' is true if and
only if « is simultaneous with its being the case that/?.
resentation need not enter into the tensed theory at all. The B-series is a
feature of reality for both sides of the debate. What they disagree about
is its relation to the A-series.
This asymmetry between the tensed and tenseless theories is reflec-
ted in the different strategies their proponents have traditionally adop-
ted in defence and attack. For tensed theorists, the focus of the attack
has been the tenseless reductionist programme. For tenseless theorists,
the focus of the attack has nearly always been the existential thesis of
tensed theory. In this paper, the spotlight is turned on the reductionist
thesis. It is this thesis, I suggest, which makes the A-series harder to re-
concile with the possibility of disunified time than McTaggart sup-
posed.
Let us say that, if there is in reality an A-series, then what it is to be
present is to have the monadic property of presentness (and similarly
for being past and future). Now what the hypothesis of disunified time
shows, if it is coherent, is that an attempt to reduce simultaneity to the
monadic properties of presentness, pastness and futurity will fail. To
return again to the reductionist schema:
The condition would be satisfied if both x and y were present, for then
both would be zero units of time past. And if they were both future,
they could still be the same negative number of units of time past. The
analysis appears to be non-circular, because although it introduces
tensed properties as relations, these are not obviously B-series rela-
tions. Again, the right hand side could not be satisfied by two events
which belonged to different time-series. So here is an analysis which
5
E.J. Lowe, ' The Indexical Fallacy in McTaggart's Proof of the Unreality of Time',
in: Mind 96 (1987), 534-538.
56 Robin Le Poidevin
appears to meet the requirements. But something has been lost, namely
the simplicity and plausibility of the original tensed analysis. In addi-
tion, the worry remains that B-series relations have after all been
smuggled into the right hand side. In any case, I shall argue that the
second and third analyses face another topological problem, which I
shall present in the final section.
What of the second move, that of denying the possibility of disuni-
fied time?
There are two ideas in play here. The first is that when we use tensed
terms such as 'now', 'yesterday', 'next week', we locate ourselves vis
a vis the events we are talking about. That is, tensed terms reflect our
temporal perspective. The second is that we can only talk about time in
such tensed, and hence perspectival, terms. It follows that we cannot
coherently talk of a time-series which is unrelated temporally to the
one we are in, for we could not coherently say, of some event in that
other time-series, that it was present. To describe it as such would im-
ply that we had a location in that time-series, which ex hypothesi we do
not.
In Dummett's discussion of McTaggart, the same two ideas are in
play, although no conclusion is drawn on the issue of time's unity. Of
6
J.R. Lucas, A Treatise on Time and Space (London: Methuen, 1973), 280.
Time, Tense and Topology 57
7
M.A. Dummett, 'A Defence of McTaggart's Proof of the Unreality of Time', in:
Truth and Other Enigmas (London: Duckworth, 1978), 356.
58 Robin Le Poidevin
Any token of 'It is the case that p here', tokened at place s, is true if
and only if it is the case that/? at s.
Any token of 'It is presently that case that p' is true if and only it is
presently the case that/?.
8
A.W. Moore, 'Points of View', in: The Philosophical Quarterly 37 (1987), 1-20.
9
G. Priest, 'Tense and Truth Conditions', in: Analysis 46 (1986), 162-166.
Time, Tense and Topology 59
The F is present,
our statement is false in the context in which we utter it, viz., our posi-
tion in this time-series, since the truth-conditions of the statement do
not obtain in this time-series. But the truth-conditions of the statement
could obtain in the other time-series (indeed, do obtain at some time in
that series), and so our statement - that very token - could be true in
the other time-series. Or, if the idea of a token having a truth-value at a
time other than the one in which it is uttered is too odd, we could say
that the proposition expressed by the token could have a different truth-
value at different times and at different time-series.
But now suppose that 'The G' uniquely picks out some other event
in that time-series which is not related to ours, and that it occurs after
the F. Then if we say
what we say is true even in the context in which we utter it. Provided,
of course, that 'is earlier than' is tenseless. So statements of this kind,
attributing B-series locations to events, can be true in contexts where
no A-series statement about those events could be true. Hence, if dis-
unified time is a possibility, the B-series cannot be reduced to the A-
series. Now someone will complain that 'is earlier than' is not genu-
inely tenseless, but to say this is to take up a position on the relation
1(1
This, apparently, was the mediaeval theory of propositions. Peter Geach tells us: For a
scholastic, 'Socrates is sitting' is a complete proposition, enuntiabile, which is
sometimes true, sometimes false; not an incomplete expression requiring a
further phrase like "at time t" to make it into an assertion' (Critical Notice of Julius
Weinberg's Nicolaus of Autrecourt, in: Mind 58 (1949), 238-245, quoted in Prior,
Past, Present and Future, 15). The availability of such an account shows, I think,
that I am not begging the question against the tensed theorist by assuming
that there is a complete description of reality whose truth is not dependent on
our perspective on that reality.
60 Robin Le Poidevin
between the A-series and the B-series, and so does not provided a non-
question-begging objection to the topological thought-experiment.
So far we have not found a convincing argument from the existence
of an A-series to the impossibility of disunified time. But there is an-
other consideration which we have so far overlooked, and that is the
connection between tense and existence claims. Arthur Prior is one
writer who insists on this connection, and he employs it (Post,
Present and Future, p. 198-99) in casting doubt on McTaggart's
thought-experiment:
If, as I would contend, it is only by tensed statements that we can give the
cash-value of assertions which purport to be about 'time', the question as to
whether there are or could be unconnected time-series is a senseless one.
We think we can give it a sense because it is as easy to draw unconnected
lines and networks as it is to draw connected ones; but these diagrams can-
not represent time, as they cannot be translated into the basic non-figurative
temporal language. If we try so to translate them, we produce contradictions
like 'There are things going on which neither are going on, nor will be go-
ing on, nor have been going on'.
5. Branching Time
To summarize the discussion so far: the suggestion that time might be
disunified need not, it seems, disturb those who regard B-series facts,
such as the simultaneity of two events, as reducible to A-series facts.
Tensed theorists who are willing to countenance the possibility of dis-
unified time can produce analyses of B-series facts in terms of the A-
series which are compatible with that possibility. And those tensed the-
orists who are not willing to countenance such a possibility can appeal
to Prior's objection to the very coherence of talk about disunified time,
Time, Tense and Topology 61
that assertions of existence are tensed, and no true tensed assertion can
be made of a temporal series other than the one in which the assertion
is made.
But now I want to present a second thought-experiment, similar to
the first, but one in which these
manoeuvres are ineffective. In this
experiment, time is hypothesized to
be branching. Let us consider, for
example, a branching past (see Fig.
3). Here, two time-series, which
were not related to each other tem- Figure 3
porally, joined up to form a single
time-series.
Of events in different branches, it is not true to say either that they
are simultaneous, or that one is earlier than the other. Such events,
however, will be earlier than some event in what we might call the
post-fusion time-series. There is no direct inconsistency between the
branching-past hypothesis and the use of tensed expressions to describe
it. Indeed, such a topological structure can be characterized tense-logic-
ally. Let us consider the following theorem:
The theorem states that if it was the case n units ago that p and it was
the case n units ago that q, then it was the case n units ago that/? and
q. In branching time, however, the possibility in Fig. 4 arises. In this
case, although p was the case n units ago and q was the case n units
ago, it was never the case that (p
& q), given that the conjunction
P
implies simultaneity. So the theor-
em fails. Branching time can
therefore be characterized as a to- (Now)
pology in which that particular
tense-logical theorem fails
n units
(though the temporal implications
of the conjunction make this
tense-logical characterization only
impurely tense-logical). We can Figure 4
also characterize branching time
tense-logically by some rather strange propositions. For example: 'It
was the case n units ago that/?, although there was a moment, m units
62 Robin Le Poidevin
ago (where m is greater than n), at which it was not going to be the
case that/?'.
It is important that we do not confuse branching time with branch-
ing possibility. We could think of the past (or, more plausibly, the fu-
ture) as a series of possibilities branching out from the present actual-
ity. But these possible pasts (or futures) all share a common time-ser-
ies. One way of bringing out the difference between branching time
and branching possibility is to say that nothing could occupy two time
branches, but everything occupies any number of possible pasts or fu-
tures. In thinking what we might have done, we contemplate ourselves
in some possible past, but that possibility is still located in the actual
time-series. We think what we might have done during that summer of
1978, not in some summer which has no temporal relation to the re-
membered 1978."
What this case illustrates is that the A-series positions at which p is
the case and q is the case, respectively, do not determine the B-series
relation between them. For although p's being the case and q's being
the case are both n units past, they are not simultaneous. So neither our
first suggested analysis,
11
I suspect that one of the reasons why Prior is more tolerant of branching time than
of disunified time is that he conflates branching time with branching
possibility. This is not to accuse him of confusion since for him time and
possibility are intimately related: see Past, Present and Future, pp. 50-1.
Lucas, who adopts a large part of Prior's conception of time, nevertheless makes
the distinction clear: see The Future, p. 101.
Time, Tense and Topology 63
The right hand side quantifies over all A-series positions - that is, the
A-series positions events now occupy. In our branching-time example,
there is only one A-series position in which p's being the case is
present, namely n units ago. But at that A-series position, q's being the
case is also present. So q and/? satisfy the right hand side of the bicon-
ditional, but not, of course, the left hand side.
Something very similar to the second analysis, with one crucial dif-
ference, is suggested by Geach.12 His analysis (p. 98) is of temporal
precedence, but we may adapt it for the case of simultaneity as follows:
The crucial difference between this and our second analysis is the in-
troduction of the word 'both'. The right hand side of Geach's analysis
would not be satisfied by our branching-time example. We cannot say
truly that it was the case that both p is present and q is present. But, I
would argue, the introduction of 'both' in an attempted reduction of the
B-series to the A-series is illegitimate. Where 'both' has temporal im-
plications, they are purely B-series implications: 'both/? and q' is equi-
valent to 'simultaneously/? and q\
So the first tensed strategy against disunified time, that of providing
alternative analyses of simultaneity, fails against branching time. Fur-
ther, the attempts to cast doubt on the coherence of disunified time do
not appear to unseat the notion of branching time. For, in describing
the branching past, we can locate ourselves temporally vis a vis those
branches, and I can truly say that it was the case that there existed two
time-series. So the fact (if it is one) that we cannot but adopt a per-
spective on time will not conflict with the possibility that the past con-
tains disparate time-series. Further, when we say 'There existed two
disparate time-series', what we say is clearly tensed, so branching time
does not fall foul of Prior's objection to disunified time.
It may be suggested (it has been, by Peter Simons) that all we have
established is simply that the usual tensed analyses of B-series facts
proceed on the (surely anodyne) assumption that time is linear. Recog-
12
P.T. Geach, Truth, Love and Immortality: an Introduction to McTaggart's
Philosophy (London: Hutchinson, 1979).
64 Robin Le Poidevin
nizing this, the tensed theorist could make the reduction sensitive to
different topologies. For linear time, the reduction goes like this, for
disunified time, like that, and so on. Even if this were the right ap-
proach, however, we would still need to come up with an analysis com-
patible with branching time, and I am not at all clear that this can be
done. I suspect strongly, in fact, that it cannot be done. But in any case,
the truth-conditions of a statement like '/ is simultaneous withy' cannot
be a purely contingent matter: statements have their truth-conditions as
a matter of necessity. So topological sensitivity is no virtue in a tensed
analysis of B-series facts.
I shall end this discussion by considering an objection (which I owe
to John Lucas) which is specifically aimed at branching time: that such
a topology would open the door to causal anomalies. In particular, the
objection goes, problems arise once we allow determinism into the pic-
ture.
Let R and S be two disparate time-series that fuse at some point to
form a single series T. Let t be a particular moment in T, and r and s
particular moments in R and S respectively such that both r and s are n
units earlier than t, for some n. Suppose that the universe in R and the
universe in S are both deterministic: that is, the conjunction of the laws
of nature together with the state of the universe at a particular time
makes possible only one series of states at subsequent times. Suppose
further that r makes it physically necessary that p will obtain n units
later, and that s makes it physically necessary that ~p will obtain n
units later. This seems to be a perfectly coherent possibility, for surely
what obtains in R is entirely independent of what obtains in S. It fol-
lows from these assumptions that (p & ~p) obtains at t, which is, of
course, a contradiction.
What does this establish? That the thesis that time is branching, the
thesis of determinism and some added assumptions form an inconsist-
ent set. It does not show that the notion of branching time per se is in-
coherent. It is possible to tell an inconsistent story about branching
time. But not all stories about branching time need be inconsistent. Per-
haps worlds in which the past contains two or more branches are inde-
terministic worlds. Or perhaps determinism is not well defined for
branching-time worlds.13 Alternatively, we could argue as follows: if
the laws of nature are time-reversal invariant - i.e., if, for any process
they permit, they also permit the reverse of that process - then determ-
inism is symmetrical. That is, in a deterministic universe, the state of
13
Jeremy Butterfield, in 'Substantivalism and Determinism', International Studies in
the Philosophy of Science, 2 (1987), 10-31, notes (17-18) the difficulties of defining
determinism consistently with non-standard topological structures for space-time.
Time, Tense and Topology 65
14 Earlier versions of this paper were read to the Philosophical Society at Oxford and
the History and Philosophy of Science Seminar at Leeds. I am very grateful to those
present, and especially to Richard Swinburne, John Lucas, Peter Simons,
Jonathan Hodge, Geoffrey Cantor and Anna Maidens, for their comments. I
am also grateful to anonymous referees for The Philosophical Quarterly for
encouragement to clarify the argument at various points.
GUNTHERMULLER
and before they can allow the question for their structure, they are bur-
ied [in Lukacs' theory] under the historical-philosophical construction
of ages of the epos that are coherent and meaningful, and of eras of the
novel that belong to fragmented cultures lacking essential meaning and
a totality of being. The classifications of the epos and diverse forms of
the novel with their specific cultural-sociological conditions are tre-
mendously subtle, but they refer rather to historical-philosophical rela-
tions than to morphological features, and, when it comes to individual
considerations, predetermined yardsticks are used indiscriminately. In
these observations, the poetic works of Balzac, Jacobsen, Flaubert,
Goethe, and Tolstoy are dealt with more thoroughly than others, but
their formative and creative achievements are only considered incident-
ally. Consequently, this approach studiously turns away from the
simple fact that the epos as well as the novel does narrate something,
and that therefore, here like there, a basically common relation to time
does exist, even if it might be considerably modified in the various
forms of narration. If one wants to identify the design principles
(Gestaltgesetze) of narrative art, or dares to attempt a typology of its
forms, one can neither compile unrelated details, nor can one deduct
types of poetry from preconditions that are alien to poetry. Rather, one
must start with observations that will form a series, observations of
what in narrative art is comparable to the skeleton in vertebrate anim-
als, namely narrating.5
Narrating visualises (vergegenwartigt); it represents something that
has passed, makes present something that is absent. It renders the ab-
sent present without itself creating it. For all narrating is narrating
about something, of something that is not in itself narrating. In narra-
tion it is transformed and yet still represented in such a way that the
traits that have been changed will contribute to the concrete representa-
tion of the event that is in a certain sense real, but absent. Narrating
does not give a self, but it gives a rendition. While the narration that is
formed by the narrating process does of course exist as such it is some-
thing different from the narrated. Wallenstein's life, but also the life of
Jean Vatican, is something quite apart from the narration of these lives
as rendered by Alfred Doblin or Victor Hugo. The narration is a lan-
guage body (Sprachleib) with its own process and rules of becoming
5
As methodologically important the following should be mentioned: R. Ingarden
(1931). Das literarische Kunstwerk. Eine Untersuchung aus dem Grenzgebiet der
Ontologie, Logik und Literaturwissenschaft. Halle: Niemeyer [Engl, transl: The
Literary Work of Art. Evanston: Northwestern UP]; E. Staiger (1939). Die Zeit als
Einbildungskraft des Dichters. Zurich: Niehans. For the history of genre theory cf
I. Bekrens (1940). Die Lehre von der Einteilung der Dichtkunst. Halle: Niemeyer.
70 GiintherMuller
6
V. v. Weizsacker (1942). Gestalt und Zeit. Halle: Niemeyer.
The Significance of Time in Narrative Art 71
thing temporal, it deals with with time as something that is filled with
events and in turn eventuates them, with the temporality of life.
Lukacs also recognised this in connection with a special type of the
novel, the Sentimental Education (L'Education sentimentale), but he
wanted to limit the observation to this type. However, in the narrative,
the unstoppable flow of life-time, whose timeless experience can mater-
ialise in lyric; this flow itself is what is represented, in the Iliad as well
as in the Aithiopika, in the Jerusalem Delivered (La Gerusalemme
liberta), the Simplicissimus, the Elective Affinities (Wahlver-
wandt-schaften), in The Magic Skin (Le Peau de chagrin), in the Green
Henry (Der Grune Heinrich), in Niels Lyhne, in the ^ e x - n o v e l s , in
In Search of Lost Times (A la recherche du temps perdu), in Of Time
and the River. It could almost be stated that the more time-bound life is,
the purer the epic will be. From this point of view, the primordial form
of epic is the 'and then', a formula that sharply illustrates the difference
of epic poetry to lyric and drama. The 'and then', however, is not yet an
answer, but it points to the essential questions of composition. Among
these questions, that of narrative time will be examined more closely in
the following as morphologically, it has an especially visible and com-
prehensible significance.
Fielding, the founder of the coming-of-age novel, raised the ques-
tion of narrative time and answered it with serene clarity. In Tom
Jones, he elaborates:
Though we have properly enough entitled this our work, a history, and not
a life; nor an apology for a life, as is more in fashion; yet we intend in it
rather to pursue the method of those writers who profess to disclose the re-
volutions of countries, than to imitate the painful and voluminous historian
who, preserve the regularity of his series, thinks himself obliged to fill up
as much paper with the details of months and years in which nothing re-
markable happened, as he employs upon those notable eras when the
greatest scenes have been transacted on the human stage. [...].
My reader is then not surprised if, in the course of this work, he shall find
some chapters very short, and others altogether as long; some that contain
72 GuntherMiiller
only the time of a single day, and others that comprise years; in a word, if
my history sometimes seem to stand still, and sometimes to fly.7
Book II: [...] scenes of matrimonial felicity in different degrees of life; and
various other transactions during the first two years after marriage
between Captain Blifil and Miss Bridget Airworthy
Book III: [...] from the time when Tommy Jones arrived at the age of four-
teen, till he attained the age of nineteen. [...]
Book IV: [...] the time of a year
Book V: [...] a portion of time somewhat longer than half a year
BookVI:[...] about three weeks
Book VII: [...] three days
Book VIII: [...] above two days
Book IX: [...] twelve hours
BookX:[...] about twelve hours
BookXI:[...] about three days
Book XII: [...] the same individual time with the former
Book XIII: [...] twelve days
Book XIV: [...] two days
BookXV:[...] about two days
Book XVI: [...] five days
Book XVII: [...] three days
Book XVIII: [...] about six days
However, nothing is thereby said about the internal relation between the
expanses of clock time, and the mode of defining time is rather ironic
and seems to make some fun of the reader as well as of the author. Yet
the humorous tone is characteristic of Fielding's work in general and
does not at all weaken its deeply humane seriousness. The other theor-
etical introductory chapters to each of his books, too, have considerable
weight, in spite of their humorous ease of expression. With references
to the alternation of standstill and flow of narration, of disregard and
detailed description they touch upon a basic form of all narration, the
very primordial form that is closely related to the rhythmic flow of life
time and experienced time.
Research on narrative forms has paid little attention to this basic
form - presumably because of the strong challenges which especially
the epos, the novel and the novella pose in terms of their themes and
7
H. Fielding (2008). Tom Jones. Ed. by J. Bender & S. Stern. Oxford: Oxford UP,
book II, chap. I, 67f.
The Significance of Time in Narrative Art 73
subject matter. This is not the place to attempt a compilation of all the
relevant statements taken from the history of narrative theory. Let me
emphasise one reference only. Thomas Mann, who, since The Magic
Mountain {Der Zauberberg), is magnetically attracted by the problem
of time, mentions this basic form of narrating several times in his
Joseph-novel, using the expression 'gap' ('Aussparung').
It is true that the Joseph-novel provides a special case of structuring
time, for while Joseph's short account of the Old Testament is strictly
adhered to, the emergence of this course from hitherto silent domains is
developed in breadth and width. However, as will be shown later, this
is also just one special case of narrating in general, and Th. Mann's re-
marks concerning the specific character of the time of narration are ob-
viously of an instructive and illuminating nature.
In the beginning of the fourth main chapter of volume IV, it is ex-
plained:
The laconic nature of the tradition up till now [i.e. of the conversation
between Pharaoh and Joseph] almost makes it, however venerable, uncon-
vincing. For instance upon Joseph's interpretation and his advice to the
King to look about for a wise and knowledgeable and forethoughted man,
Pharaoh straightway answers: "Nobody is so knowledgeable and wise as
you. I will set you over all Egypt." And overwhelms him on the spot with
the most extravagant honours and dignities. There is too much abridgement
and cutting-away about this, it is too dry, it is a drawn and salted and em-
balded remnant of the truth, not truth's living lineaments.8
8
Th. Mann (1990). Joseph der Ernahrer (Joseph und seme Bruder. Gesammelte
Werke m dreizehn Banden). Frankfurt/M.: Fischer, 1478; (1944). Joseph the
Provider {Joseph and his Brothers). New York: Knopf, 229f
74 GuntherMiiller
Wohlverstanden, wir haben nichts gegen die Aussparung. Sie ist wohltatig
und notwendig, denn es ist auf die Dauer vollig unmoglich, das Leben zu
erzahlen. Wohin sollte das fuhren? Es ffihrte ins Unendliche und ginge
iiber Menschenkraft. Wer es sich in den Kopf setzte, wiirde nicht nur nie
fertig, sondern erstickte schon in den Anfangen, umgarnt vom Wahnsinn
derGenauigkeit. [...]
Was ware aus uns geworden ohne Aussparung, als Jakob diente bei Laban,
dem Teufel, sieben und dreizehn und ffinf, kurz: funfundzwanzig Jahre
lang - von denen jedes winzigste Zeitelement ausgefullt war mit genauem,
im Grande erzahlenswertem Leben? Und was sollte jetzt aus uns werden
ohne jenes vernunftige Prinzip [der Aussparung], da wiser Schifflein, vom
mafiig gehenden Strom der Erzahlung dahingetrieben, wieder einmal an
den Rand eines Zeit-Katarakts bebt von sieben und sieben geweissagten
Jahren?
This all sheds some light from a slightly different point of view onto
these same traits which we already observed. Only the expression that
life once narrated itself may need an explanation in our context. Voiced
by the great narrator, he transfers its representation on that which he has
represented. In this case, it is an incident that was firstly narrated in the
First book of Moses, that is, as an incident that happened outside the
narration, in the time and life of the arch fathers. Every historical novel
that uses historical sources displays such a doubling effect, and like-
wise every epos that, like the Iliad or the Nibelungen-sa&i, refers back
to older poems that are closer to the time of the events. But in any case,
to claim that the incidents given in the first narration are something that
has happened in the temporal space of real life and have thus been nar-
rated by life itself, can only be taken as a simile. Life does not narrate
itself, life lives itself. Life does not leave anything out, but it is com-
9
Th. Mann (1990), I.e., 1479; (1944), I.e., 230f.
The Significance of Time in Narrative Art 75
plete down to the most delicate movement of each individual cell. Like-
wise, every incident that has not been distilled from historical sources
but is created by the imagination is also designed as a complete interre-
lation of events. On the other side, Th. Mann's Joseph-novel itself also
shows the significance of imagination in the historical novel. Therefore,
in academic research, the expression that life narrates itself can only be
used with strong reservations. Reservations, because the difference
between narrating and narrated should not be concealed. This differ-
ence does exist, no matter if the events are historically confirmed or
created by imagination. In every narration, events are represented not as
narrated but as lived incidents of life living itself. Consequently, it is
the difference between the narrated and the narrating that is decisive to
the individual forms and the morphology of the art of narration. With
its paradoxical oneness of separation and relation, this distinction is the
root soil for a 'natural form' of poetry.
One aspect of this polar unification is, as Th. Mann stresses, the im-
possibility to narrate life in the way it once happened. It is an important
insight to point out that in reality every tiny element of time is and was
filled with a detailed life that is basically worth being narrated. Even
James Joyce and his school are not able to completely represent this
saturation of every tiny element of time. Gaps cannot be avoided, even
when complete accuracy is intended indiscriminately.
With Thomas Mann, cutting-away obviously means a meaningful
gap. I would like to suggest the term 'time contraction' ('Zeitrqffung').
For, in short, the narrator does not simply leave something out, he con-
tracts the narrated time continuously, but to a different degree.
Up to now, narrating has been repeatedly distinguished from the
narrated. This includes the relation between the time of narration and
narrated time. Now, this should be scrutinised more thoroughly. -
Grellmann in his encyclopedia entry, 'Roman' ('Novel'),10 also distin-
guishes between the narrator and the narrated. Yet, he only pays atten-
tion to the subjective appearance resp. his objectivity and the ideologic-
al conviction of the narrator and does not see what is basic to all narrat-
ing: namely, the intertwining of different courses of time.
In order to narrate a story, the narrator needs a certain span of phys -
ical time. Its measurement by a clock is characteristic of the peculiarity
of this time, for the clock allows a projection of time into space and
thus a spatial measurement of time - for measurement of time proper
does not exist. But when a star or the hand of a clock has covered this
and that spatial distance, then time has run so and so 'long'.
10
H. Grellmann (1928/29). [Art.] 'Roman,' m: Reallexikon der deutschen Ltieratur-
geschichte. Ed. by P. Merker & W. Stammler. Berlin: de Gruyter, vol. 3, 62-72.
76 GihitherMiiller
server is pointed to the difference of the two mutually related time con-
cepts in a narration as well as to the different measurements of time
contraction possible in this constellation. At the same time, it provides
an illustration for the paradoxical saying that all creative forming is an
omitting.
Very generally, we can distinguish between three main sorts of nar-
rative time contractions. One is the simple skipping of time spans. That
can be done explicitly ('several years after', in Kleist's Bettelweib von
Locarno) or without special reference and can apply to hours as well as
to years. This way of time contraction can be especially well observed
in the structure of Jiirg Jenatsch. Again and again, larger periods of
time are cut out, whereas the narrated phases are broadly represented.
Secondly, there is the contraction of time in large steps or main
achievements in the way of 'vem, vidi, vici'. This emerges very ab-
ruptly in the The Brothers Karamazov, of which the first book narrates
almost thirty years in strongly simplified main lines, while the follow-
ing books develop three days, in the way, that the time of narrating and
narrated time are for long periods as largely congruent as they are in
Joyce's Ulysses, although, here and there, the style of representation is
completely different - in Dostoyevsky's work, it is the consequence of
the extensive part that dialogues play in the narration. In a third variant,
the individual movements and incidents are contracted into the general
traits of a transitional conditionally - here, one could speak of iterative
and durative traits, in analogy to the terms for verbal forms of action,
for example, when we read: 'Now, he rode out daily' or 'For weeks he
could not free himself from the idea'. To a large extent, Stifter's Witiko
is considerably shaped by a low degree of contraction of iterative and
durative actions.
It is obvious that one or the other way of time contraction has a
formative effect on the rhythm and the structure, and consequently on
the gestalt of the work as a whole. But to avoid misunderstandings, one
has to keep in mind that in each work, there are numerous, not to say
countless, contractions and that these do not necessarily have to be of
the same kind. Decisive are not just the most numerous kinds of time
contractions in a work, but the ones that leave the strongest mark, or, to
be more precise, what is most important is the relation between the fre-
quency and the impact of the various time contractions in a work. Em-
phasised periods of time that are portrayed as especially meaningful in
a work of poetry are generally less contracted, although, for example,
the two murders in the Jew 's Beech {Die Judenbuche) are not explicitly
narrated, they are in fact omitted in the narrated time.
78 GihitherMiiller
Another difference adds to this. There are narrations in which the in-
dividual progressions are very clearly defined in order of their place in
a certain period of time. It is narrated how many days or hours have
passed between this and that event; hour, day, and year of an event are
explicitly given. Thus, the narrated time is fixed in a quasi calendncal
way. The narrative works of Herzog Anton Ulnch of Brunswick have
this tendency, but also Goethe's; Bel ami, Buddenbrooks, and the For-
syte Chronicles are strikingly exact in a calendncal way. On the other
side, there are narrations that narrate almost nothing about a relation to
clock time. Not only the Hellenistic novels with a good part of their fol-
lowers belong into this category, but also many fairy tales, and among
the works of high art such works as Henry of Ofterdingen (Heinrich
von Ofterdingen) by Novalis. In the same way, in the Artus epics, it
would be difficult to limit the individual events to a certain time of the
day. Now, there are countless transitions between the two border cases
of clock-time accuracy and clock-time independence, and even in one
work, generally, the level of accuracy is not consistently the same. For
example, with E.T.A. Hoffmann or Meyrink, the change between
clock-time independent periods and those that do have exact clock time
is caused by the narrated. However, when one realises how exact in
calendncal terms time is determined in Werther, for example, one will
be cautious to make conclusions offhand about attitudes toward life that
are denved from the kind of time of nanating, and to interpret
calendncal accuracy as an expression of a view of life that is determ-
ined by physics. Without a doubt, only so much can be said, namely
that here and there, a different expenence of time by the poet is influen-
tial, that connected to it is a different relation of life to the spatio-tem-
poral world, and that, in fact, a different mode of creation, a different
type of form, a different basic law of becoming will be related to it.
How to judge this individually can only be decided case by case.
This is confirmed by the following observation. All nanating is a
nanating of something that is not nanation, but a process in life; this
process occurs in the spatio-temporal world, even if it is an inner exper-
ience of the soul. If a nanation contracts clock time such that the spa-
tio-temporal condition is contracted away, then it makes an obvious
choice with an interpreting effect and as the result of a sense-giving at-
titude towards reality. This is no less the case when the clock time is in
fact not contracted away, but narrated precisely.
But not only these special contractions add significance, every con-
traction does so. To skip a sequence of events, that means, to contract it
away, to make it denser or more expansive, actually means to give sig-
nificance to it or to remove it from some point of view. What Achilles
The Significance of Time in Narrative Art 79
does in detail while he angrily stays away from the fight, what Parsifal
does in detail while he angrily keeps away from God - in Homer, in
Wolfram, it has been contracted away. But, from a different point of
view, this may be especially worthwhile to narrate. The months spent
painfully by Wilhelm Meister after the loss of Marianne, the months
spent storming through during the war by Eduard in Elective Affinities
(Die Wahlverwandtschaften) could very well be narrated in elaborated
detail instead of durative-iterative contraction or in short reflections, if
there was not a rule of value and consequently, an interpretative inten-
tion that led to just this contraction of the narrated time.
With this, an important phenomenon comes into sight, that not just
the explicitly evaluating opinion turns the narration into an interpreta-
tion. Rather, it is a basic structural law of narrative art that already one
of its elementary forming processes, the representation of time periods
in a tension between time of narrating and narrated time, has an inter-
preting effect. Remarks by Goethe are helpful to grasp this more
clearly. He says in his 'Introduction to the German Gil Bias' (Geleit-
wort zum Deutschen Gil Bias) that the novel as an ethical phenomenon
of art is rightly expected to have an 'inner consequence, which, even if
we are led through so many labyrinths, appears again and closes
everything as a whole in itself [our translation]. This is in accordance
with the interpretation of catharsis in Goethe's 'Afterthought to Aris-
totle's Poetics' CNachlese zu Aristoteles' PoetiV), in which the famous
controversial quotation is translated: 'Tragedy is the mimesis of a signi-
ficant and completed action, which [... ] after a period of sympathy and
fear, closes its business with the balance of such passions' [our transla-
tion]. The 'Geleitwortzum Deutschen Gil Bias' continues: 'But human
life, faithfully recorded, never presents itself as a whole; after the most
wonderful beginnings, bold progresses follow, then accident interferes,
man recovers, he begins, perhaps on a higher level, his old play, which
was agreeable to him, then he either disappears early or disappears
slowly without every knot that was tied having been untied' [our trans-
lation]. Here, an important point of view, although in no way the only
one, is given under which a contraction of incidents, and that means
contraction of narrated time, may happen.
When dealing with Diderot's essay on painting (?Versuch tiber die
Maleref), signification as a reason for contraction is even more obvi-
ous, and whatever was observed on the relation between life time and
narrated time, gains clearer contours here. There, Goethe says: 'Nature
seemingly acts on behalf of itself, the artist acts as a human being on
behalf of other human beings. In life, we only barely select the desir-
able, the enjoyable. Whatever the artist offers to man, should all be
80 GihitherMiiller
up with what was earlier by virtue of the polar relation of the time of
narrating and narrated time. It can give a voice only to the event but
also to the sympathy of the narrator, to his empathy and his reflection,
to his distant statements, his confidence, his distress, his humor.
All this and much more that could not be specified here, gives hu-
man meaning, human significance to the natural event which is alien to
meaning. It co-builds the creative construction of the narration in a de-
cisive way, the shape of its sound and the beat of its pulse. This, how-
ever, is the formation-reformation of all poetry. It corresponds to the
formation-reformation of organic natures, up to the metamorphosical
growth from the mono cellular to the multi cellular entity. The language
body (Sprachleib) of poetry is shaped by the movement of the emer-
gence (Werdebewegung) of narrating. Like every other language, the
language body of poetry not only articulates itself but it also speaks
about something else which it causes to appear by its representation.
Regardless how important theoretical statements and the reported indi-
vidual events may be in a narration, it is the language of the complete
movement of emergence, of the sounds, the sequence of images, shaped
from all inventory and forces of the work, it is this language that makes
poetry become poetry. Knowledge and action have their own lan-
guages. The language of art, of poetry, of narration, is form, is gestalt.
Time, as has been shown, has a basic significance to the formation of
narrative art. It is the one formative force that allows a comparison
between all narrative works with respect to this decisive trait of the
common form and thus makes the identification of morphological lines
and groups possible. This, however, is the indispensable condition in
order to arrive at a typology of narrative art to which we ought to as-
pire.
Finally, an unintended result of these observations has to be
touched. Art belongs to the signifying forces of human life that creates
meaning, and at the same time belongs to those entities, which are cre-
ated by a natural force, when the appropriate conditions arrive, without
being asked for and without a purpose, like plant and animal. It sup-
ports the shaping and the liberation of the sense of being, of the experi-
ence of the world. It carries us away, as is said in Schubert's song, into
a better world - a higher, deeper, wider world, so to speak, a world that
is more humane because it is meaningful. Through this, it is able to
strongly, sometimes decisively, influence the lived human life. But it is
not able to change the unfeeling world that is alien to meaning, to abol-
ish or to alter its cycles of physical or biological nature that are indiffer-
ent towards human interpretation. Rather, within the enormous and in-
comprehensible edifice of nature, it acts like a natural force in itself. As
The Significance of Time in Narrative Art 83
a world with its own meaningful, significant way, it rotates in its own
orbit according to its own rules, which are analog but not identical to
the growth-oriented world of life and only touches the physical-chemic-
al-biological world insofar, as mind and spirit of man is connected to it.
It can radiate its vitalizing meamngfulness to the mind and spirit of
man, and, from there, also influence bio-chemical events to a certain
degree. It is true, this still harbors enough dangers, but the grand nature
does not know fear, and as an apparition of nature with its own rules,
art plays its part in the diversified fabric of the human domain to
achieve the sublimation of life.
KATE HAMBURGER
1.
I was asked by the editors to comment on Herbert Seidler's polemics
against my theory of the epic preterit.1 Kindly allow me to do this as
follows. Instead of dealing with all of Seidler's individual attacks,
which derive from a point of view that is, as one might say, more mo-
tivated by an 'emotional stylistic' than by a view deriving from the lo-
gics of discourse, I only would like to discuss and elucidate, if possible,
some principal problems. For the rest, I would like to refer to the book
that I hope soon to present: Die Logik der Dichtung {The Logic of Lit-
erature). Furthermore, may I consider the object of my - by necessity -
polemic response as a general one, by dwelling on some of the views
and problems mentioned in the discussion, but without quoting the indi-
vidual works. What is at stake is one point, the problem of time which
has impinged upon the theory of fiction, and which has, from the begin-
ning - already with Lessing, already with Goethe and Schiller -, invited
an erroneous approach that misinterprets the 'mode of being' ('Seins-
weise') of fiction. As I was made to understand, it can only be elucid-
ated and corrected by stringent logical proofs. Namely, by a method
that was, up to now, hardly practiced, or was not practiced at all: the
comparison of the function of discourse that generates fiction, to non-
fictional discourse.
The sources of errors from which obviously, directly or indirectly,
confusion slipped into the current debate on the problematic of time
with regard to poetry, have their origin in Lessing's theory of Laocoon
on one hand, and in Goethe's and Schiller's view of epic and dramatic
poetry on the other hand. The source of errors in the theory of Laocoon
is Lessing's assumption that poetry is an art of time. He bases this as-
* Editorial note: Footnotes 1 and 3 were added by the editors. We have decided to
translate the title's German term 'Dichtung' as 'poetry' rather than 'literature' for
reasons detailed in our foreword, footnote 27.
1
H. Seidler (1955). 'Dichtensche Welt und epische Zeitgestaltung', in: Deutsche
VierteljahrsschriftfurLiteraturwissenschaft und Geistesgeschichte 29: 39CM13.
86 Kate Hamburger
sumption on the view that it is an art of speech and that the action of
discourse, by necessity, takes place within time. For this reason, he ar-
gues, the poet (he refers to the epic poet) can only 'represent' ('ab-
bilderf) such phenomena of reality that take place in time, namely
events or actions. And if the poet wants to describe objects, he can only
do so by conversing them into actions. When Homer wanted to describe
the Shield of Achill, he could only succeed by showing how Hephaes-
tus produced it, thus dissolving it into the actions of Hephaestus.2
Already this example shows how this, Lessing's theory, leads to com-
pletely wrong interpretations, not only of the illustrative art of Homer
but of epic means of representation in general. It is true that Homer dis-
integrates the images of the Shield, like the conflict between the two
cities, into action, event, moving life, but he does not disintegrate them
into the manual actions of Hephaestus. Indeed, the indication, which is
repeated again and again, that Hephaestus produced and created does
mean the contrary, namely, the indication that we are dealing with im-
ages here, something that may be easily forgotten due to the lively de-
scriptions.
But Lessing's theory has been kept in mind and, in modified form,
has become effective again as the discrimination between time of narra-
tion (Erzahlzeit) and narrated time (erzahlte Zeit). But how does that
work? Firstly, the problem will be considered with a simple Homeric
example.
Agamemnon, woken up from the dream that was sent by Zeus,
raises, dresses, and rushes towards the ships:
Jetzo erwacht vom Schlaf, noch umtont von der gottlichen Stimme,
Setzte sich aufrecht hin, und zog das weiche Gewand an,
Sauber und neugewirkt, und warf den Mantel dariiber;
Unter die glanzenden FiiB' auch band er sich stattliche Sohlen;
Hangte sodann um die Schulter das Schwert voll silberner Buckeln;
2
'Homer namhch malet das Schild mcht als ein fertiges, vollendetes, sondern als ein
werdendes Schild. Er hat also auch hier sich des gepnesenen Kunstgnffes bedient,
das Coexistierende seines Vorwurfs in em Consecutives der Handlung zu
verwandeln und dadurch aus der langweiligen Malerei ernes Korpers das lebendige
Gemalde emer Handlung zu machen. Wir sehen mcht das Schild, sondern den
gottlichen Meister, wie er das Schild verfertiget' (Laokoon, XVIII) - 'Homer, that
is to say, pamts the Shield not as a finished and complete thing, but as a thmg in
process. Here once more he has availed himself of the famous artifice, turning to
the co-existing of his design mto a consecutive, and thereby making of the tedious
pamtmg of a physical object the living picture of an action. We see not the Shield,
but the divme artificer at work upon it' (Laocoon, XVIII).
The Timelessness of Poetry 87
time are forms of experience of the existing, but not of the imaginary. A
train accident happening in reality takes, with everything that comes
with it, a certain time. The newspaper report on it 'contracts' this time
by conceptual time specifications of all kind: at five o'clock, after
twenty minutes, after that, etc. When reading this report, we cannot ex-
perience the time during which the accident happened as we cannot ex-
perience the real accident itself, but we only conceptually take cogniz-
ance of the accident, that it happened and took so and so long. The con-
tracting of time, that is, the specifications that denominate time concep-
tually, are not only given in fiction but in every report on reality. As
well in the newspaper report as perhaps in the narrative of a novel, the
train accident is displaced from any time experience because it is dis-
placed from any progress of time.
However, during the last decades the interest of literary theory has
shifted towards the construction (Gestaltung) of time in a novel, and
thus on the problem of time in general. This interest was motivated by
novehstic poetry itself in which time and the experience of time became
topical, with Proust, Joyce, Virginia Woolf, Thomas Mann, etc. By
their treatment of time, these poets made a partly epistemological,
partly constructive 'transcendental' turn, the turn from 'naive' presenta-
tion of events to a 'critical' reflection of the mode of the conditions of
their sequence. This turn is of course associated with the profound ex-
ploration of psychological-existential depths that characterises modern
narrative and dramatic art. These poets attempted to construct time it-
self, to narrate it, like space is poetically constructed and narrated,
either in a more reflexive way (like Thomas Mann's chapters
'Ewigkeitssuppe' ('Soup-Everlasting') and 'Strandspaziergange' ('By
the Ocean of Time') in The Magic Mountain and similar philosophies
of time that are applied to the larger periods of time in the Joseph-nov-
el), or by strongly stressed hints to the course of time in which the nar-
rated events 'happen', or rather, are imagined as happening. In these
works, the time unit of a day became especially popular, most famous
in Joyce's Ulysses, or in Virginia Woolf s Mrs. Dalloway. Here, time is
made recognizable, narrated like the space. But, time cannot be as eas-
ily constructed as space, and it cannot, ultimately, even when extended
into larger spaces of time, be presented differently as in every other his-
torical account, and as in natural changes in life that are, of course, pro-
duced by time. Here, we can see one of the causes of the fact that a
small unit of time like a day was preferably chosen for the poetic con-
struction of time. By this, the infiniteness of the inner world which is
not time-bound could be constructed most strikingly as a contrast to the
limitedness of the outer existence (this is one of the levels of sigmfica-
90 Kate Hamburger
2.
being, that is, their place and time, and therefore their place in reality.
And consequently, it is the preterit that expresses, in a statement in real-
ity, that, for example, a man does not live any more. If I read or learn
from a statement in reality: 'The merchant N. was a rich and generous
man', then I know that now, when I come to know this, he does not live
any more. If I read this sentence in a novel, then I am not informed that
he was a rich and generous man when he was still alive, but that he is
such a man. And if this sentence in a novel is written in present tense, I
am made to know exactly the same: Not that he still lives right now as
this rich and generous man, but that he lived - and behold! The imper-
fect tense was or lived does not have any meaning any more for
whatever I learn from this sentence in the novel. I am not oriented to-
wards the temporal, the preterit meaning of this verb, but towards the
meaning-content signified by it, and I am not realizing the present tense
form of a historical present tense either. The preterit loses its function
and meaning of 'past'. But saying this, I did not indicate that 'the
preterit presents the fiction'. In fact, fiction is presented in a different
way, it is created, albeit with the aid of verbs, yet not with their tempor-
al form, but with their meanings. I will show how this works with an
example especially suited to demonstrate that emotional stylistics is not
sufficient to understand the highly intricate functions used by language
when it does not make statements on reality but wants to construct a po-
etic fictional reality - functions which are subconscious to the poet in
as much as the grammatical forms in which he expresses himself are
subconscious to the ordinary speaker and writer.
The frame narrative of Keller's Zurich Novellas (Zuricher Novellen)
begins with the following sentence:
Gegen das Ende der achtzehnhundert zwanziger Jahre, als die Stadt Zurich
mit weitlaufigen Festwerken umgeben war, erhob sich an einem hellen
Sommermorgen mitten in derselben ein junger Mensch von seinem Lager,
der von den Dienstboten des Hauses bereits Herr Jacques genannt und von
den Hausfreunden einstweilen geihrzt wurde, da er fur das Du sich als zu
groB und fur das Sie sich noch als zu unbetrachtlich darstellte.
Towards the end of the eighteen hundred twenty years, when the city of
Zurich was surrounded by extended fortifications, in the centre of the
same, on a bright summer morning, a young man rose from his bed, who
was already called Mr. Jacques by the servants of the house and addressed
with 'Ihr' [2nd person pi.] by the friends of the house, as he appeared to be
too big for the 'Du' [2nd person sing.] and still too insignificant for the
'Sie' [3rd. person pi.; our translation].
The Timelessness of Poetry 93
Like no other, this text seems to confirm explicitly that a plot of a novel
is imagined as having passed and is therefore told in preterit tense.
When does it happen? At the end of the twentieth year of the nineteenth
century. But let us continue to ask: what happened then? A young man
rose from his bed. If we ask the reverse question: when did the young
man rise from his bed?, then we have to reply: towards the end of the
eighteen hundred and twenty years, on a bright summer morning. Giv-
ing these answers, we realise that they are inadequate. The question:
when did this happen? somehow does not match the verb in relation to
which we ask this temporal question. We do not use verbs like to rise
(from a bed, a chair etc.), to go, to sit, to have a restless night (for he
had had a restless night, as is said immediately after this), when mak-
ing statements about points in time that reach far back in time and are
indefinite. I can say: Yesterday, or one week ago, Peter rode his bike to
town, but I usually do not say: Ten years ago or at the beginning of this
century, he rode his bike to town, or even: He rose from a chair. In a
statement of fact (Wirklichkeitsaussage), I use such situation verbs
(Situationsverben) in imperfect only in relation to points of time which
have passed not long ago. Why? Because these verbs signify a situation
that is concrete and can still be remembered and overlooked by me, the
person who makes the statement here and now. A sentence like the one
by Keller cannot appear in a statement of fact (Wirklichkeitsaussage).
Here, a statement that links a young man rising from his bed to the in-
formation that the city of Zurich - where this happened at the end of the
eighteen hundred twenty years - is surrounded by extended fortifica-
tions, would be impossible. When we read this text without knowing
the context it is taken from, we still know immediately that this is not a
reality statement. The first verb that we come across, he rose from his
bed, teaches us that we are dealing with a fictional narrative. At the
same time, this verb does even more. It eliminates the time marker in its
function as marker of the past tense. It does so although it is given in
imperfect, that is, according to a strict grammar, it indicates an action in
the past, even in a given time. But what does the situation verb really
do? It does the opposite: it makes time and space present, it leads to a
(fictitious) situation here and now in that our young man did not rise
but does rise. And in spite of the imperfect and in spite of the definite
time statement, I really cannot ask when the young man rose from his
bed. I am not supposed to learn that he rose from his bed at a given time
on a day of the 19* century but that he rose. And as it is this factum that
matters, the preterit form becomes insignificant and disappears, it be-
comes de-emphasised and can be substituted by a present tense as well,
94 Kate Hamburger
which likewise would not be emphasised.5 But what happens to the pre-
cise statement of time which was already far in the past of the poet
Keller? It loses its function as a historical statement of the past; it
merely sets the stage for the coming narration which we have entered,
the image of the city of Zurich that was still surrounded by fortifica-
tions at this time. The situation verb eliminates the indication of the
past that both time marker and preterit form have in a reality statement,
and it creates a fictitious present, which immediately constitutes itself
more intense and clearer in all further moments of the narration. Let us
read on:
Herrn Jacques' Morgengemiit war nicht so lachend wie der Himmel, derm
er hatte eine unruhige Nacht zugebracht, voll schwieriger Gedanken und
Zweifeliiber seine Person.
The morning mind of Mr. Jacques was not as laughing as the sky, as he
had spent a restless night, full of difficult thoughts and doubts of his own
person [our translation].
The reader experiences in the same way as the poet who wrote this,
only that Mr. Jacques' morning mind is not laughing - in the fictitious
moment of being of this fictitious character. Therefore, the decisive ele-
ment that creates fiction in this text is the situation verb, which already
has the power to eliminate the indication of the past tense in tenses and
time markers. Situation verbs are always tools of fictionahzation but
they are not decisive for the character of epic fiction, as they also ap-
pear in statements of fact, as for example, in eyewitness accounts
(which have only really taken shape in their precise and typical form in
modern radio reports, like those covering sport events, state funerals,
coronations, but also in travel accounts in which an eyewitness reports
on events in the moment when they are happening, a modern form of
the Mauerschau or teichoscopy in drama). The decisive criteria for nar-
5
However it may be argued that, when reading a historical work, I am likewise
expecting not the temporal, but the significant meamng of the verbs. When reading
in Ranke's work Die groflen Machte {The Great Powers): 'In this moment (1740)
of an obviously true danger to the German fatherland, Fredenc II appeared, Prussia
rose' [our translation], then the appearance of Fredenc II, the rise of Prussia, would
be decisive. Nevertheless, in my reading expenence, I have the knowledge, what
the verbs express did happen, and accordingly has happened at a certain time, not
only the rise of Frederic but also that he rose at that time. Elsewhere, I will discuss
in detail the decisive meaning of the context, to which we have to turn for the
elucidation of the language system in such cases when the use of words itself does
not enlighten the place of a written work, or even of a sentence.
The Timelessness of Poetry 95
king states that yesterday, or at any other past point in time, the king had the
mtention to play. Rather, this wanted to signifies the fictional momentary inner
situation of the kmg's will, not a past experienced from his side, but his fictitious
present, from where'this coming evening' is imagined.
b) Following this argument, I would like to clear a further misunderstanding of
which, apparently, my own argument is not innocent. Seidler argues that my proofs
of the absence of the I-Origo of a narrator in a novel cannot be correct, as I myself
had shown that this is not true for the desenption of milieus in a novel. Now I
founded my proof, for the purpose of showing the genesis of a fictional narration,
on the entrance of Stifters Hochwald, where, actually, the account of the milieu
does not yet belong to the novel as such (something that I will show in more detail
in my forthcoming book). The present tense in which it is narrated is no histoncal
present tense, but marks a kind of historical eye witness report that only passes
over into fictional narration with the preterit tense. However, with common
introductory descriptions of milieu in pretent tense, like for example at the
beginning of Jiirg Jenatsch, the situation is different. Here, the concept of context
is important, a concept that I had not yet introduced in the essay on the preterit
tense. A mere description of milieu in which the characters of the novel do not yet
appear does not or does not need to contain those structural elements that identify
them as a novel's description. But if I know, for example from the title, that I have
just started to read a novel and no travel account, I already experience an
introductory milieu desenption as the setting of a novel and relate to the fictitious
characters whose appearance I can surely expect because I read a novel. In this
case, the imperfect of this description immediately loses its function as a marker of
the past, and the impression that is given by the first sentence of Jiirg Jenatsch:
'The midday sun shone over the bare peak that was surrounded by rock heads, of
the Mierpass in Biinden county' ('Die Mittagssonne stand iiber der kahlen, von
Felshauptern umragten Hohe des Julierpasses im Lande Biinden') is that of the
temporal present of the expected plot of a novel.
The Timelessness of Poetry 97
this fact that informs us about the linguistic and representational rules
of this, the fictional genre. This fact clarifies that fictional narration is
something categorically different from historical narration which is an
account of reality. But wherein lies the structural root cause of this cat-
egorical difference? It lies in the fact that the contents of epic poetry
(which as a genre restricts us to lead our proof by reference to the nar-
rative) will only exist because they are narrated, whereas the contents
as the object of a statement of fact (Wirklichkeitsaussage) exist whether
or not they are narrated.7 A narrated fiction is not the object of the state-
ment of a 'narrator' or an 'I-narrator', but it is a junction of the process
of narration which in itself is not a 'person', but just a generative func-
tion. When, in our Keller-text, it is said: 'Mr. Jacques' morning mind
was not as laughing as the sky' ('Herrn Jacques' Morgengemut war
nicht so lachend wie der HimmeV), it does not mean that somewhere a
Mr. Jacques exists and somebody relates this about him, but this char-
acter is generated by the words chosen as somebody with a bad mood
in the morning. Narration is the function that generates fiction like the
colored brush of the painter generates the painting. It is the mimetic
function that as the narrative function can be reduced to zero: at this
point, the dramatic form emerges where the narrative function is partly
substituted by the scenic representation, or from the poetic point of
view by the dialogical system. It serves to elucidate and give contour to
the poetic genres if we reserve the concept of the 'narrator' for the au-
thor of a narrative work of poetry, but does not personify the narration
itself to become a narrator. The terms narrator, dramatist, lyricist,
identify the kind of art that is performed by these artists, in the same
way as the terms painter and sculptor identify the kind of their art. This
is not a mere play with terminology but, in the case of epic and lyrical
poetry, leads to insights into the logic and thus to the phenomenology
of the poetic genres. When today particularly effort is taken to avoid
the identification of the 'lyrical I' with the poet, then there is less reas-
on for such qualms then in the case of calling the narration the narrator.8
7
A more detailed analysis of this statement that will also dissolve the seemingly
paradoxon of unreal contents of a statement of fact, I will elaborate in the future.
8
In my article that is discussed here (which was already written in 1952 ['Das
epische Praetentum', m: Deutsche VierteljahrsschriftfurLiteraturwissenschaftund
Geistesgeschichte 27, 1953, 329-57]), this was not stressed with full terminological
clearness. The term 'non-fictitious factor' {nichtfiktiver Faktor) that I used there at
one point and which was criticised by Wolfgang Kayser (in his article 'Die
Anfange des modernen Romans rm 18. Jahrhundert und seme heutige Krise', m:
Deutsche Vierteljahrsschrift fiir Literaturwissenschaft und Geistesgeschichte 28,
1954, 417^16), is admittedly not adequate and could lead to misunderstandings, as
98 Kate Hamburger
it creates the impression as if the 'narrator' was identified with the author. Already
at that time, the argument was that narration itself is a factor that does not belong to
the fictitious world proper, but at that time, I had not discovered the functional
constitution of this factor that cannot be named a 'fictitious' one - as again, Kayser
would like to do - for the exact reason that itself generates the fiction. In the book I
referred to, I try to give a more detailed analysis of the character of the narrative
function.
The Timelessness of Poetry 99
There is certainly one unity to which it belongs with all its genres and
varieties: it is the unity of art itself which embraces poetry like all the
other arts. It is separated from the mode of being of reality (Seinsweise
der Wirklichkeit) by the fact that what it creates not only exists but also
signifies, meaning that it has the existence of a symbol and with this ne-
cessarily also of an idea. In the system of art, however, poetry takes a
special, even a precarious place. Because it is the very art that exists
through a 'material' that is not only the material of art, of the poetic ex-
pression and creation of reality, but also of the extra-poetic, the 'prosa-
ic'. And with his sharp eye, Hegel saw and said of poetry that it is 'the
special art in which art begins to dissolve itself and merges with the
prose of scientific thinking'. This insight already contains that a logic of
poetry exists because there is a logic of thought.
EBERHARD LAMMERT
However, Herder positions Pindar side by side with Homer as the cre-
ator of 'large lyrical paintings', and Pindar's word of creation: "I sing!'
(151).
Thus, narrative work of art has its energy source in a world of
events (Begebenheiten), which art creates and organises into an action
line (Handlung). The lyric poetry's point of convergence, by contrast,
lies in the soul of the poet and may, indeed must orientate its enunci-
ations toward an emotional condition, without being bound to the suc-
cession of real processes. It may tell of condition, current spirit and
timeless thoughts: it simply has to sing. Lyric poetry is bound to the
first principle like any other enunciation but not any longer to the
second!
Herder already goes as far as questioning the absolute necessity of
progressing in time - and he nearly would also have turned his criti-
cism to the 'basic concepts' ('Grundbegriffe') of the epic and the lyric-
al, which everywhere - and even with Homer - shape literature jointly
by succeeding one another. Anyhow, urging us to let each kind of po-
etry retain its own principle of blending, he states that as far as the epic
poet Homer and his epos is concerned, 'the essence of his poem' lies in
its forceful (!) progression; the successions 'are the body of the epic ac-
tion' (150).
The Time References of Narration 103
Here, one can feel the basic affinity that exists despite of all separa-
tion between the 'basic concepts' and the 'main genres', in this case,
between 'epic' [adject, form] and 'epic poetry'. An epos in general
must possess the basic epic strength of the progression of events in or-
der not to miss its genre. In addition, it may also feature - and it actu-
ally requires this for its artistic forming - lyrical or discursive traits,
even for relatively long periods. The discourse may, as Herder also em-
phasised, expand into the spatial dimension and shape it in the illustrat-
ive fashion of 'painting'. However, the scaffolding (Gerust) of the nar-
rative work has to be the progressing, indeed the energetically pro-
gressing action that is characterised by a striving force!
In one story or the other, the description of milieu, the creation of
human character sketches, the presentation of ideas and, finally, the
educational purpose may overshadow the mere sequence of events and
thus render it meaningful in the first place. But we are, in case we want
to deal with the preconditions and typical features of all narratives, re-
ferred back to the events taking place in time which E.M. Forster called
their atavistic armature.
For this reason, the established formula 'there was' ('es ward'),
which Herder calls the narrator's word of creation, characterises the
peculiarity of poetry more precisely than the formula 'once upon a
time' ('es war einmaV), which before and after Petsch has been con-
sidered as the origin of the epic account. The formula 'once upon a
time' does not yet express any intention of eventfulness; consequently,
it can therefore only be thought of as the primal schema of narrative
exposition, as the entrance gate to the fictitious world that is only nar-
ratively shaped when the static 'it was' evolves into an 'it became' or
'it happened'.
Following Giinther Miiller, 'the primordial form of epic is the "and
then", a formula that sharply illuminates the difference of epic to lyric
and drama' (in this volume p. 71). There was... and then... - if one
adds the two together, one has the ideal outline of the narrated, the pat-
tern of unreeling events triggered by the impetus of a first incident.
So our first conclusion is: it is the poet's task to transform his ideas
and opinions as well as his visions of space and characters into tempor-
al processes, into events, or at least to embed them within these if he
wants to make them narratable (erzdhlbar). In Herders terms this
meant for the epos that every part 'must rush toward the action'; put
into the language of the narrator Jean Paul it reads: 'The entire inner
chain or the chain of reasoning must disguise itself as the flower chain
of time' [our translation]. And Jean Paul assumes: 'This is the most
104 EberhardLammert
difficult task' ('Dies ist das Schwerste'; Jean Paul, § 68, 176, resp.
230).
We have deliberately chosen the findings of Lessing and Herder as
the basis of our deliberations because especially Herder receives far
too little attention for his fundamental achievements in the science of
literature, unlike his contribution in literary history which has charac-
terised German philology to this date. The basic conditions of narrating
were already outlined in Herder's criticism [of Lessing], and, as far as
Homer is concerned, their consequences for the narrative presentation
of the world had already been realised.
However, the insight that a piece of art constituted by language and
characterised by defined movements as well as examinable contours is
not the result of a chance correspondence of the two categories of time,
but rather the result of their continuously changing tension did not
cross Herder's mind yet, although he had already accepted Shaftes-
bury's concept of 'forming forms' and derived his understanding of the
forming powers (Bildekrafte, energeia) of language from it.
The tension between the simulated real events and their narrative
mastery is initially based on the tension between empirical and lan-
guage-based reality, i.e. intentional reality per se.3 Language cannot im-
itate objects and processes but it only may indicate and bring them to
mind to the extent that is necessitated by the relevant purpose of the
message. But by indicating, the speaker presents the whole issue from
his perspective. With his selection from the unlimited ensemble, which
is available to him in real or fictitious form, he constructs a limited
whole, according to the principle that all forming, and especially the
forming by human hand, is an omission.4
If these principles of indication and selection are obligatory in every
kind of linguistic representation of the world then they must also be
equally identifiable in all phenomena of narrative art. This provides us
with a point of departure from which we can swiftly overcome the very
old debate on theories of mimesis, from which even Lessing could not
escape yet. For the double nature of the narrated process and the pro-
cess of narration, better than any other phenomenon of narrating, al-
3
The indicative mode in the language based work of art is intentional because it
points to a trans-literary entity! About intentionahty in detail: Ingarden Das
literarische Kunshverk {The Literary Artwork) - Stenzel 'Philosophic der Sprache'
('Philosophy of language'), esp. 35ff. - Recently, Hamburger [1953] accentuates
the distinction between real and literary reality with her thorough analysis of the
fictional character of narrative works.
4
About 'indication' Flemmmg [1925], 9f About 'selection' Lugowski [1932], 185;
more in particular Milller [1944] and in this volume, 67-84.
The Time References of Narration 105
5
Using the terms 'ideal time' (action time) and 'real time' (time of speech), Heusler
[1902] already conducted research on 'the dialogue in the older German narrating
poetry' in 1902, and at the same time, Zielmski [1901] analysed the problem of
'Homeric succession' by examining the tension between the course of events and
the presentation of events.
Older than these scholarly approaches, and even older than the analyses of Herder
and Lessing, are the remarks about the specific difficulty of time in narrative art by
the authors themselves, e.g. by Fielding, Sterne, and then Jean Paul. These remarks
are interwoven reflectively into their works Tom Jones, Tristram Shandy and Titan.
As far as we can see, Hut [1923: 10] is the first one who contrasts the terms 'time
of narration' QErzahlzeif) and 'time of plot' QHandlungszeif) but who disregards
their specific tension by concentrating on the unity of time in drama. - In an epoch
that is characterised by a sensitiveness to time, time relations in narrative texts have
become one of the most important aspects of interpretation in the works of Muir
[1928/1949] and E.M. Forster [1927/1947] as well as in a number of special
research papers mostly based on Jean Pomllon's Temps et roman [1946] in which
he analyses the philosophical premises of time phenomena. Important in terms of
criticism: Gaetan Picon [1947]. - With regard to the theory of drama, 'time' has
always been in the focus of interest. An overview can be found in Junghans' work
Zeit im Drama [1931] in which he takes the terms 'expansion of time'
CZeiterstreckung') and 'management of time' ('Zeitbewaltigung') as a basis. But in
the course of his work, he increasingly misjudges his literary subject in favour of
philosophical and psychological theorems despite the excellent individual
considerations. - The structure of Petsch's chapters about time in Wesen und Form
derErzahlkunst [1934/1942] and Wesen und Form des Dramas [1945] is obviously
influenced by this book. Indeed, the tension between time expansion of 'the process
of narration' ('Erzahlvorgang') and the 'narrated event' Qerzahlten Vorgang') has
caught Petsch's attention before ([1930:] 266, see [1934/1942:] 163), but he also
turns to the 'experience of time' (<Zeiterlebnis') and the psychology of 'duration'
QDauef) - something we would like to prevent hereafter. Thiebergers work Der
Begriffder Zeit bei Thomas Mann [1951] shows for example that there are a lot of
interesting, literary historical tasks in this field, in which the intellectual historical
backgrounds are made available in clear reference to Bergson. - 'Die Bedeutung
der Zeit in der Erzahlkunst' ('The significance of Time in the Art of Narration') as
an indicator of structural relations and narrative style has been newly brought to
mind by G. Milller during the last decade. He also invented the two terms 'time of
106 EberhardLammert
References
The same is true for the phenomenon of 'frequency'. The various types
of repetition on the level of language and story constitute a phenomen-
1
In traditional language use 'flashback' {Ruckwendungen) and 'foreshadowing'
{Vomusdeutungen); on these and further terms see below page 116ff
2
This would mean a return to the descriptive-quantificational method of Miiller's
Bonn morphological school. On criticism of Miiller's theory see Lammert (51972:
23, 33, 82; Jauss (21970: 15f); Genette (1972: 77f).
110 Alfonso de Toro
on that is, in our opinion, only partly time specific. Repetitions like 'X
eats every day at 12 o'clock' or 'X comes today, X comes today, X
comes today' are either dealing with the story or the language but not
with time usage. These linguistic repetitions or repetitions of story
units may be connected to time usage but they do not have to be and
will, therefore, be dealt with individually. Finally, the category of fre-
quency also includes the 'concretisation of time', in other words, at
what point and in what manner do time indicators or similar data ap-
pear. Here, we will similarly ask about their function.
Finally, to be more concrete and to depict the phenomena of time as
clearly as possible, Genette's model is complemented by the use of
time diagrams. The time diagrams are constructed with consideration
of the story levels D I [Discourse I] and D II [Discourse II].3
Compared to Genette, the problem of the study will also be expan-
ded to include:
3
Following Stierle (1966: 138-147), Todorov (1966: 138-147) and Genette (1972:
75) we differentiate between two discourse levels. The former 'Discourse level T (=
D I) constitutes the 'deep level discourse' equivalent to the rhetorical dispositio, i.e.
the arrangement that includes precedures of temporal structuring. The second
'Discourse level IT (= D II) denotes the 'text of the narrative' corresponding to the
rhetorical elocutio, the process of narrating which subsumes the narrative situation
and modes. The term 'narrative situation' refers to the techniques of point of view,
the term 'modes' refers to ways of narrating such as narration (fr.) or telling and
representation or showing respectively.
4
See Iser (1972, 1975).
Time Structure in the Contemporary Novel 111
gically the four last ones, or he can connect individual action sequences
with respective segments in an achronological way:
or
A3 E2 — C5 — B2 D1 B1 etc.
8
See here Miiller (21974: 300): 'When we attempted below, by example of some
prominent cases, to clarify the experience of time and the construction of time
within the work that is arranged by the poet (...), then this had to be done in a
strongly simplifying, schematising way that did not do justice to the often mutual
requirements in an individual work, and that was also in a certain way true for the
arbitrary choice of the "cases'" [our translation]. No matter how voluminous a
certain work is designed, this basic problem that is inherent to all models, will
persist; see, in a different context, also Pfister (1977: 15f).
9
S. Ducrot & Todorov (1972: 400).
10
The extra-textual reference of the time to which we refer here should not be
confused either with the extra-textual function of time, that is, with its effect on the
reader, or with the internal/external analepses/prolepses. Our term 'external time'
also partly corresponds to the one of Hristo Todorov (1968: 41^19); he understands
by it the real time of the communication partners, that is, a time that is located
outside the text. His definition of temps interne (as temps simule) corresponds also
only partly to ours, insofar as he does not make the distinction between real and
fictional'act time'.
11
We adopt the term 'text time' {Textzeit) - in slightly altered form - from Weinrich
(21971: 56), the term 'act time' (Aktzeit) from Wunderlich (1970: 31). Ricardou
(1967: 161-170) speaks of temps de la narration and de la fiction in the sense of
'Textzeit and 'Aktzeit in our language use. Rossum-Guyon (1970: 215-227) uses
the term temps de I 'ecriture in the sense of temps de la narration, as does Ducrot &
Todorov (1972: 400), however, she substitutes this term with the one of temps du
sujet, and defines temps de la narration (= de I'ecriture) as 'reading time'
(Lektiire); see also Ducrot & Todorov (1972: 400), whose term of temps externe is
congruent to our term of external time, but whose term temps interne only complies
partly with our term of internal time, because the authors also include, next to
temps de I 'histoire (or temps de la fiction, temps raconte, temps represent*?) and the
temps de Vecriture (or de la narration ou racontant) the temps de la lecture. Apart
from the fact that the time of reading {Lektiire) would belong, taxonomically
(should such a distribution be possible), as well to the internal as to the external
time, which is why we regard this category as not suitable for text analysis because
of its variability and non-verifiability (each reader reads differently), Todorov
114 Alfonso de Toro
Fictional act time is the time of poetic texts: of the novel, the short
story, the drama etc. Different from real time, fictional time has to be
determined within the fiction, the poetic text, and is part of the creation
of the situation. Fictional time does not know the link to pragmatics. It
is neither characterised by the chaining of the literary production to
empirical real time, nor by a rough isomorphic link between its config-
uration, its course of action and time and its description on one side,
(1966) and Ducrot & Todorov (1972) do not make a distinction between real and
fictional 'Aktzeif.
12
See also Mendilow (1952: 65) who speaks of fictional time (= fictional act time), as
well as Ricardou (1967: 161-170) who speaks of temps de la fiction. Rossum-
Guyon (1970: 215-227) uses the terms temps narre, de Faction, de Vaventure and
also de la fiction, and Genette (1972: 77) the terms of temps de la chose-racontee,
du signifie; Miiller (21974: 247ff.) uses the term of 'narrated time' (erzahlte Zeit)
that is only partly congruent to our 'act time': Kayser (151971: 207ff) uses the term
'objective time' (objektive Zeit) in the sense of 'time of narration' (Erzahlzeit) by
Miiller (21974: 247ff), and like him, understands it as 'time of representation'
{Darstellungszeit; see here Pfister (1977: 327-381), but he warns us not to believe
that the 'objective' time could become congruent with 'poetic' time (= narrated
time) in narrative texts (see also Miiller 21974: 258; 307f).
13
See Link (1974: 286f).
Time Structure in the Contemporary Novel 115
14
See (ibid. 293-297).
15
See Genette (1972: 77f).
16
On Miiller's theory see (21974: 225-246; 247-268; 299-314; 388^118; 556-570;
571-590). Again, it should be stressed that our term 'text time' (Textzeit) is not
congruent with Miiller's 'time of narration' (Erzahlzeit), and that the instruments of
analysis serve to describe the procedures of temporal arrangements and not to
quantify and measure them. By 'time of narration' (Erzahlzeit), Miiller understands
the extension of the text (pages and lines that are needed for a certain extension of
time), although this term is also defined as the time of reading or the time of the
play. With the term 'narrated time' (erzahlte Zeit), he refers to the extension of a
narrated story in minutes, hours etc. The issue of the Miiller school in relation to
the usage of time results from the definition of these pairs of terms: Miiller is
concerned about the confrontation of the extension of text and the extension of
time, a phenomenon that, in our model, will be placed, following Genette, in the
field of duration.
116 Alfonso de Toro
17
Within time arrangements two functions can be distinguished: the intra text
function with far reaching consequences for the constitution of the story, and the
extra text function, which facilitates a certain guidance of reception, and transmits
the message by the author, without the use of the omnipotent narrator.
18
See Genette (1972: 77ff.) who uses the term ordre.
19
Ibid., 79.
20
Ibid., 79ff; complex forms of time arrangement can already be found in
HeUodorus'E/fao/Hca, see Kayser (151971: 210) and Nolting-Hauff (1974: 440ff).
21
See Genette (ibid); the difference in the use of anachronies in the ancient, older,
and modern literature lies in the gain of complexity of time usage, in the functional
changes, and in the inclusion of the levels of consciousness in time usage.
Time Structure in the Contemporary Novel 117
DI : TT: A 2 1 - B 2 - C3 3 - D4 4
1.2212 Anachrony
Genette uses the term 'anachrony' in view of analepses and prolepses.
In regard to the contemporary Latin American novel, however, it
proves to be useful to distinguish sub-types of anachrony.
1.22121 Explicit Anachrony
Explicit anachrony can be subdivided into five types: explicit 'time
permutation', explicit 'time overlap', explicit 'time interweaving', into
'time circularity' and explicit synchrony. Where anachrony is explicit,
analepses (flashbacks) and prolepses (flash-forwards) constitute two
time levels in the text:22 a level of time I (= TL I), the present into
which the anachrony has been inserted, and a level of time II (TL II) -
subordinated to TL I -, which is created by the time of anachrony itself
and which is constituted by a past or future, by a deeper past or deeper
future. Therefore, to distinguish these two time levels, we will speak of
TL Hi, and of TL II2. A good example to illustrate these two time levels
can be found in Flaubert's Madame Bovary.* Arrival and daily life of
Charles and Emma in Tostes constitute TL I; the analepsis, in which
Emma's life in the convent school is shown constitutes TL II.
By distinguishing these two time levels, Genette is led to another
distinction: the distinction between 'extension' (amplitude) and 'scope'
(portee).1* By 'extension', he understands the time section which is
covered by anachrony (analepsis or prolepsis) in TL II. 'Scope' is the
term for the temporal distance between the events contained in ana-
chrony (= TL I), and those events that happen in the present time (= TL
II). In other words: 'scope' is the temporal distance between events in
past or future and those in the present time:
22
See Genette (1972: 78-90); Lammert (51972: 100-194) distinguishes between two
main types of discordance: 'flashback' {Ruckwendung; = analepsis) and 'fore-
shadowing' {Vorausdeutung; = prolepsis).
23
Flaubert (1971: Chapt. vi, 36^1).
24
See Genette (1972: 89f).
Time Structure in the Contemporary Novel 119
In this definition, the status of the different time levels is also ex-
pressed because analepses and prolepses belonging to TL II are always
inserted from TL I. It also happens that analepses constitute themselves
within other analepses and/or within prolepses; also, prolepses within
other prolepses and/or prolepses within analepses may appear; this in-
terlacing of prolepses and analepses, we call anaprolepses.26
The difference between explicit and implicit anachrony can be seen
among other in the fact that the reader does not necessarily have to re -
construct a story sequence that has been intercepted by an explicit ana-
chrony, because the omnipotent narrator resp. the character as a guar-
antor for the temporal order remains openly present. With implicit ana-
chronies, this is not the case.
25
Indication of time is not necessary, as Emma Bovary herself knows when the events
that she recalls took place. Here, the mentioning of time indicators would reveal
Emma's perspective and the perspective of the narrator.
26
This term is also used by Dallenbach (1977: 76, note 1).
120 Alfonso de Toro
b) External analepses are characterised by the fact that their total ex-
tension - contrary to internal analepses - remains outside the tem-
poral level I, that is, before the beginning of the text. Out of external
29
Lammert (ibid., 122) speaks of 'Ruckgriff (flashback) in this case.
30
Genette (1972: 97).
122 Alfonso de Toro
1.2212112 Prolepses
In contrast to analepses, prolepses occur less often in narrative texts,
and from the second half of the 19th century onwards, a clear decrease
can be observed, after Flaubert had postulated the impassibilite of the
narrator as a desirable aim.32 However, even in the 20* century, pro-
lepses can be found in several texts by authors like Proust, Thomas
Mann, Garcia Marquez etc.
31
See Genette (1972: 90f.). Lammert (51972: 112ff.) counts the internal and external
analepses under the term 'Ruckschritf (step backward).
32
See Flaubert's Correspondence in G. Bolleme (1963: 95; 9 decembre 1852).
33
See Genette (1972: 105ff.); Lammert (51972: 143ff.) uses here the term
'Vorausdeutung' (foreshadowing).
Time Structure in the Contemporary Novel 123
b) The external prolepses are characterised by the fact that their exten-
sion remains outside the temporal level I, that is, they reach further
than the end of the text. All those prolepses that have their place
after the chronological end of the story, in other words, when the
hero has died or escaped from the world of events, can be under-
stood as external.
34 See Genette (1972: 105ff.), Lammert (51972: 171ff.) uses the term 'erganzende
parallele Vorausdeutung' (an augmenting parallel foreshadowing for this type.
35 Here Lammert speaks of 'Phaser? (phases) and 'Ausgangsvorausdeutungen' (initial
foreshadowings).
36 Genette (1972: 112).
37 Lammert (51972: 154-159) names these prolepses as ' Vorausdeutungen der
Endsituation' (foreshadowings of the final situation), and the complete prolepses as
' Vorausdeutung des Endzustands' foreshadowing of the final state).
124 Alfonso de Toro
c) Mixed prolepses can only be defined for heuristic reasons, that is, as
prolepses whose extent lies before the end of the text but whose
scope goes beyond the end of the text.
The circles may be simple or complex. A simple circle is e.g. the one
mentioned above; but if it contains more circles that have formed them-
selves during the narration of past events or during the passage from V.
to Z., then you have a complex circle:
38
Our term corresponds only partly to the one that Todorov uses (Ducrot & Todorov
1972: 402), of histoires enchassees, as he assumes a chronological order of events,
but this is only one possibility of the interdependence of temporal segments.
39
Accordingly, circularity is a special form of anaprolepses; see Vargas Llosa (1971:
545ff); Segre (1973: 152-193).
126 Alfonso de Toro
With this type of anachrony, the reader does not immediately realise
the temporal distortion but is surprised by it, as it is caused neither by
the narrator nor by a character, but by the author who is not deictically
manifest.
1.221221 Implicit Time Permutation and Implicit Time Interweaving
The 'implicit time permutation' is the achronological, surprising dislo-
cation of a story segment p forming part of a story sequence P from a
Time Structure in the Contemporary Novel 127
Story level AT: jAl - jB2 - 2A3 - 2B4 - 3A5 - 3B6 - 4A7 - 4B8
More complex time interweavings may appear when the story segments
proceed achronologically, as in the following example:
Story level AT: jAl - jB2 - 2A3 - 2B4 - 3A5 - 3B6 - 4A7 - 4B8
Here, the story segments A and B are not only temporally interwoven
but the respective story segments of A and B are, at the same time, per-
m i t t e d temporally.
As we have seen in the graphs, the exponential digits of the story-
segments resp. -steps were retained (e.g. TT: iA4 - iB22; resp. TT:
2A!3 - 2B24. This was necessary because the steps do not follow each
other causally (B does not follow A). In this case, the distinguishing
exponential digits have to be retained. Otherwise, the segments tempor-
ally succeeding each other in an arbitrary way would be declared as
causal. In our example above, steps A and B are of the same nature (in
both cases a respective hero leaves the house). It would only be pos-
sible to do without the action-related digits if in a text all story seg-
ments followed each other according to the logic of action as then these
digits would be congruent with those of the chronology.
1.221222 Implicit Time Overlap
Implicit time overlap represents a third type of implicit anachrony. It
consists of the overlap of two (or more) time levels, without an internal
textual communication instance. Within the individual story sequence,
or within several story sequences, we distinguish between simple and
complex time overlap. A simple time overlap exists when two different
story sequences can be found on respective time levels, e.g. one in the
present and the other in the past or in the future. A complex time over-
lap exists when at least three different story segments/story sequences
take place on respectively different time levels, one e.g. in the present,
the second in the past, the third in a more remote past or in the future
or in a more remote future. We can transfer this to a graph as follows:
simple time overlap within a given story sequence A happening in the
Time Structure in the Contemporary Novel 129
present (TL I); story segments also occur (p,q,r), which could be situ-
ated in the past or the future:
40
In Flaubert's L'Education sentimentale (1964: 145ff; 280-284) and also in
Bouvard et Pecuchet (1965: 227-333). All these synchronies set the events into
contrasting relations and substitute an auctorial commentary. Here, the implicit
reader is asked to draw his conclusions; see de Toro (1987: 9-31) and (1987a: 121-
149).
41
In opposition to Lammert (21972: 102) who regards analepses ('Ruckwendungen')
as synchronisations.
42
Ducrot & Todorov (1972: 403) define simultaneity as dedoublement que le temps
de Vecriture projette dans sa succession. Often the use of analepses and prolepses
is referred to as simultaneity. But this is wrong, as the precondition for a situation
of simultaneity - belonging to the implicit anachronies - is the lack of an intra-
textual communication instance. As soon as such a communication instance exists,
two interdependent TL are created, and the different TLs always remain obvious to
the reader.
Time Structure in the Contemporary Novel 131
As we will see below, strong achrony is common within texts that have
a tendency to be sujetless. It will be seen that in such texts, story seg-
ments may partly be placed into a certain temporal line on the basis of
assumptions, but partly they may not be, as there is not only a lack of
time specification, but the chronology is destroyed to a degree that tem-
poral organisation no longer has meaning.
1.222 Duration
Up to now, the relation between text time and act time was discussed
under the aspect of anachrony, limited to an analysis of the relation
between text time and act time. With the analysis of 'duration', it is not
the relation between act time and text time but the relation between act
time and the length of the text (= 'LoT') that is being analysed, i.e., the
temporal longitude or brevity, the duration of the story segments. We
do not attribute any principal meaning to 'LoT', it only serves as an
empirical starting point for a comparison of the duration between the
story segments.
43
See Pfister (1977: 122ff.), who does not only consider the procedures of time usage
for the creation of an illusion of simultaneity, but also the use of channels of
various kinds.
44
Genette (1972: 119).
132 Alfonso de Toro
45
This part of the model constitutes - as has been mentioned before - the core subject
of Muller's theory.
46
See Genette (ibid: 1972: 122f); Ricardou (1967: 164ff); Weinrich (21971: 57) and
Lammert(51972:84).
47
Genette (1972: 128ff); Lammert (51972: 84ff); Ducrot & Todorov (1972: 402f).
Todorov uses the terms analyse and digression (for our term of pause), but they
should be understood rather as a gradual distinction than as a necessary
differentiation for the phenomenon itself. With Todorov, the difference between the
two terms is not very clear. He calls time summaries resumes and consequently
does not make a difference between different types of summaries. Ellipses, he calls
escamotages, and congruence of time, style direct.
Time Structure in the Contemporary Novel 133
48
On this term Humphrey (81972). Groundbreaking were the novels by V. Woolf,
The Waves (1931) and by J. Joyce, Ulysses (1922).
49
Lammert (51972: 84); Stanzel (61972: 43ff.) speak of 'szenische Gestaltung' and
Todorov (1966: 146) according to Lubbock (31960) of 'style panoramique' resp.
'style scenique'.
134 Alfonso de Toro
Their basic linguistic formula is: 'In this time it once happened...' or
'So it happened for example....', 'Again and again in this time...' or
'Through all this time...'etc. Summaries always appear when the nar-
rator has to present certain events or indications of a character in order
to elucidate the presently running story. These events and indications
do not represent the focus of his interest; they provide secondary and
50 See Petsch (1978: 47); Milller (21974: 259); Lammert (51972: 83f.); we only speak
of 'time summary' to separate it from other types summaries like 'spatial' and
'topical', which, however, is difficult, like in the case of iterative-durative time
summaries; see Lammert (51972: 85f).
51 Lammert (ibid: 83f).
Time Structure in the Contemporary Novel 135
1.2224 Ellipsis
When the 'LoT' is 'much smaller' than the AT, we speak of an ellipsis.
We distinguish three types of ellipses:
a) Ellipses on the level of the story, that is, ellipses that leave out a
certain time span of the story. We distinguish here between three
forms of omissions52:
aa) the explicit 'ellipses'. These are explicitly mentioned by the
narrator. The ellipsis can be presented in a definite manner
('Two years have passed') or an indefinite way ('Many years
have passed), or may at first not be indicated by the narrator
but only be marked at the beginning of a new chapter;
ab) the implicit ellipses. In this case, the omitted time is not indic-
ated. The reader can only a posteriori, after attentive reading,
realise that there is a temporal gap in the diachrony;
ac) the hypothetical ellipses. These cannot be determined within
the diachrony. Thus, they are 'timeless' ellipses. Sometimes,
the reader can help himself with elements within the content,
like characters, places, motives etc. to define their temporal
space.
52
See also Genette (1972: 139-141).
136 Alfonso de Toro
(Ellipsis)
II [Frederic] voyagea
II connut la melancolie des paquebots ...
II revint.
II frequenta le monde ... etc.53
He [Frederick] travelled.
He knew the melancholy of the steamboat...
He came back.
He frequented society ....
The three 'an-isochronies', pause, time summary and ellipsis, and the
isochrony, the scenic presentation, can be presented as follows56:
53
Flaubert (1964: Chapt. vi, 419).
54
Robbe-Grillet(1955).
55
Ricardou (1961).
56
See also Ricardou (1967: 161ff.).
Time Structure in the Contemporary Novel 137
1.223 Frequency
1.2231 Repetition on 'D IF and Frequency of the Story
In this chapter, following Genette, the realisation of D II and the story
will be discussed under the point of view of frequency.57
Actions like 'x ate every day at 12 o'clock' as well as sentences like
'X ate every day at 12 o'clock; x ate every day at 12 o'clock' etc. may
be repeated; the frequency is a characteristic of D II, of the language
and the story, a quantifiable ratio. For this reason, the text frequency
can be defined as the frequency of D II (= RD [repetitions of dis-
course]) and of the story (= RS [repetitions of story]).5*
However, as explained above, the phenomenon of frequency will
not be regarded in detail. For our purposes, the phenomenon of fre-
quency as such is important, as are its functions and its relation to time
usage, but not its different forms.
According to Lotman, RD II and RS have two basic functions in
general:
It has to be determined from case to case which occurs when. This de-
pends on the number of RD II and/or RS, i.e., whether the repetitions
occur at a high or low frequency. In addition, one has to take into ac-
count whether these repetitions are of an identical or equivalent nature.
The repetition of equivalent linguistic elements or action segments
may contribute to represent the same object from different perspect-
ives, wherby its semantic or structural meaning changes with each re-
petition. For this reason, repetitions receive a structural significance
and they consequently can be included with semantics so that they are
not considered as mere, so-called formal elements.60
57
Genette (1972: 145-182).
58
One may also consider such structures as forms of enonciation if analysed
linguistically.
59
See Lotman (1973: 139; 187-212).
60
To my knowledge, Jakobson (1973: 219-233) is one of the first authors who stated
the inclusion of so-called formal elements as part of the content. With this, he
acknowledges the semantisation of form and overcomes the traditional separation
of content and form.
138 Alfonso de Toro
After three weeks, the first month, for two nights, she is only fifteen
years old, it is six o'clock.
passes by, without the narrator having called the reader's attention
to the time's passing by in any other way.
c) Summarising function: the selective concretisation of time is one of
the possibilities that allows to shorten the presentation of events.
d) Function of temporal orientation.
e) Elliptic function: the selective concretsation of time is generally
used if a narrator withholds an entire part of the story.
f) Relativising function: The point in time at which certain events took
place is often put into question by supplying large amounts of time
indicators.
1.22322 Forms and Functions of Non-selective Concretisation of Time
There are two different forms of non-selective concretisation of time;
the implicit and the explicit form:
A •» report
modes jg:_—~~— •
dialogue
free indirect discourse
4 explicit permutation of
ypographic level
r implicit permutation of ti
* implicit anachrony v~" —•implicit overlapping of t
• time arrangement ^
* implicit interdependence
, strong "implicit synchrony
••weak "simultaneity
»• D II
• frequency o
*• story
r characters
\ r implicit
concretization of time <."_._ •• explicit
tory level - • plot
k
space/time
Time Structure in the Contemporary Novel 141
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142 Alfonso de Toro
* Editorial note: The literal translation for the German term ' Sachverhaltszeif is
'time of a state of fact'; the corresponding term central to this article is 'Sach-
verhaltsfolgenzeit', i.e. 'time of a sequence of states of fact'. In order to avoid these
unwieldy literal translations, we have decided to use the term 'fact' for 'state of
fact' (note that 'Sachverhalf in Harweg's usage refers to static situations as well as
to events), resulting in the terminological equivalents 'fact-time' for
'Sachverhaltszeif and 'fact-sequence-time' for 'Sachverhaltsfolgezeif. While the
distinction between an objective 'fact' and a 'state of fact' - i.e. a descnption or
conceptualisation of a fact, not the fact itself - is thereby partially obliterated, the
term 'fact' seems adequate in that Harweg's mam argument concerns the distinction
between representation of time in the form of 'story' and the (logically) pre-
supposed factual time that exists independently from narrative verbalisation. The
philosophical problem inherent to the notion of 'fact' is implicitly discussed in
Harweg's chapter 2.2.
1
The termini [i.e., discourse-time /story-time = Erzahlzeit / erzahlte Zeit] go back to
G. Milller (1947/1968, [transl. in this volume], and 1948/1968). However,
according to E. Lammert (1955: 257), the levels as such have been distinguished
earlier in literary studies by Th. Zielmski (1901), A. Heusler (1902) and E. Hirt
(1923). Lammert (1955) himself, carrying on from Milller, takes this opposition as
the focus point of his study Bauformen des Erzahlens {Forms of Narration). In the
non-German language area, B. Tomasevskij (1925/1965: 281) distinguishes
between 'temps de la narration' and 'temps de la fable', and T. Todorov (1966:
139) draws the line between 'temps du discours' and 'temps de Vhistoire\ S.
Chatman (1978/1983: 62) speaks of 'discourse-time' and 'story-time'. A.A.
Mendilow (1952: 36ff) speaks of 'pseudo-chronological or fictional time' instead
of 'story-time', and instead of 'time of the act of narrating', he speaks of
chronological time while making a distinction here between 'the reader's clock
time' and 'the writer's clock time'. Doing this, he stresses that he does not believe
that the 'time of the act of narration' or the chronological time are fictional. Or, like
me, he sees a difference between Activity as the attributes of certain sigmfier and
144 Roland Harweg
signified and fictionality as the attribute of a certain relation between sigmfier and
signified. Thus, he would maintain that, in the case of fictional works (he and other
authors are only interested in those), only the 'story-time', but not the 'time of the
act of narrating' is fictitious. Also, other authors seem to understand the 'time of the
act of narrating' as a non-fictive phenomenon, measunng it, like e.g. Milller
(1947/1968: 257; in this volume 67-84), Lammert (1955: 32) and G. Genette
(1971: 99ff) into - non-fictitious - printed pages, or by understanding it as reading
time of a non- fictitious reader, like Tomasevsky (1925/1965: 281) and Chatman
(1978/1983: 62). But this is questionable from the point of view of terminology,
because, as soon as the term is taken literally - and that means it is related to the
producer - it becomes obvious that it can only be the production time of a fictitious
narrator who narrates orally, and not the time of writing of a non-fictitious author
(Milller 1947/1968: 257f; in this volume 67-84] already stresses this
emphatically). In return, the interpretation of the 'time of the act of narrating' as a
non-fictitious phenomenon was only possible because of these reinterpretations of
the term.
2
E.g. H. Reichenbach (1947/1966: 288; [in this volume p. 1-11]) with the
introduction of a .point of reference' (besides a 'point of speech' and a 'point of the
event'), and K. Baumgartner & D. Wunderlich (1969: 34ff) with the introduction
of a 'contemplation time' (Betmchtzeit) (next to 'speech time' and 'action time').
Story-time and Fact-sequence-time 145
pressed in a certain tense and the time of its respective fact? Certainly,
if the time of a certain fact is not expressed, then it remains mere fact-
time and does not become and is not expressed time. But this is an ob-
servation that only has conceptual implications and not also empirical
ones; because as soon as the time of certain facts is expressed in a cer-
tain tense, then the time of these facts is also the expressed time, and
even as both time units are not similar, they are, nevertheless, congru-
ent. But in the framework of tense theory - which is mainly dealing
with individual tenses - this congruence may, from the empirical point
of view, still seem to render the said distinction of time levels obsolete.
Therefore, seen in empirical terms and in the framework of tense the-
ory, it still appears to make sense if we restrict the analysis to three
levels. So I uphold my suggestion to name these three levels 'utterance-
time' (Aufierungszeit), 'observation-time' (Betrachtzeit), and 'fact-
time' (Sachverhaltszeit).
However, this does not apply to narrative theory's time model. Ac-
cording to the academic opinio communis, it still relies on a mere two
level model that deals with the layers of the time of the act of narrating,
i.e. 'discourse-time' and the narrated time, i.e. 'story-time'. But neither
this model nor a tnchonomic concept, as I suggested in my essay 'The
Retrospect Chapter in Thomas Mann's Novella Death in Venice', will
suffice. In fact, narrative theory's time model requires an extension to a
concept of four levels. This four-level concept is a theoretical equival-
ent to the four-way distinction in tense theory between 'utterance-time',
'observation-time', 'expressed time' and 'fact-time' - distinctions
which I had suggested as conceptually, but not as empirically necessary
and useful. It is a correspondency which in a way takes shape as a syn-
tagmatic expansion of those tense-theoretical levels of time. Thus, the
concept of the 'utterance-time' is syntagmatically expanded into the
concept of 'discourse-time'; the concept of an 'observation-time' con-
gruent to the 'utterance-time' extends into one congruent to dis-
course-time and/or reception-time; the concept of 'expressed time' is
syntagmatically enlarged into 'story-time'; and the concept of 'fact-
time' expands syntagmatically into 'fact-sequence-time'.
While two of the four time levels in tense theory - the levels of 'ex-
pressed time' and of 'fact-time' - which can be distinguished conceptu-
ally concur empirically, as I already mentioned, their corresponding
levels in the framework of narrative theory and narrative theory of time
do not. In other words, the levels of story-time and of fact-sequence-
time do not correspond. This is a matter of great interest to a theory of
narrative time. It is especially relevant as it implies a theoretical exten-
sion to a four-level-concept, which exceeds the extension of the preval-
Story-time and Fact-sequence-time 147
7
Some of the observations in the theory of time whrch have led to my suggestion to
drstingursh between the levels of story-time and fact-sequence-time have been
drscussed before, but always only - inadequately in my opinion - within the
framework of the traditional distinction between discourse-time and story-time.
Like the distinction itself, they are normally seen as attributes of those super
ordinate distinctions of levels in narrative theory whose elements have been
described in the English language with the terms 'story' and 'plot', with the terms
'sujet' {'sjuzet') and 'fable {'fabula') by Russian Formalists, like e.g. Tomasevskij
(1925/1965: 267ff; see also Erlich 1955), by Structuralists like Todorov (1966:
126ff) with the terms 'discours' ('discourse') and 'histoire' ('story'), by Lammert
(1955: 24ff) with the terms 'FabeV und 'Geschichte' (the first one being not on the
same side of the opposition as with the Russian Formalists), by Chatman
(1978/1983), following the French Structuralists, with the terms 'discourse' and
'story', and by Stanzel (1979: 39ff) with the terms 'Erzahlung' ('narration') and
'Erzahlung minusMittelbarkeif ('narration minus mediacy'). I cannot discuss here
in detail the question if my distinction can actually be correlated with the time
theoretical differences of these distinctions. Definitely, it has some strong points of
contact. Nevertheless, I would like to point out two aspects. First, I would like to
stress that the distinction that I suggested, contrary to the two established
distinctions, the time-theoretical and the general one, is not limited to the field of
art and fiction. Secondly, and also in contrast to the two established distinctions,
whenever my distinction is applied to this field, it always remains with both levels
in the field of fiction; none (or: not at least one) of the levels will transgress the
border towards non-fiction. Furthermore, finally, it can be assumed that the
distinctions in narrative theory of the type 'FabeF vs. 'Geschichte', 'plot' vs.
'story' or 'discours' vs. 'histoire' are not sufficiently differentiated and that they,
like the distinctions among time levels, can and have to be proved as elements of a
more differentiated system, like the time level distinctions of 'story-time' and 'fact-
sequence-time' and 'time of the act of narrating' and 'narrated time'. It seems that
Stierle (1971/1975) took an important step in this direction with his trichotomy of
'Geschehen' ('happenings'), 'Geschichte' ('story') and 'Text der Geschichte' ('text
of the story'). However, I believe that Stierle's explanation of his tnchotomy is not
concrete enough, so that I cannot recognise and judge the state of its elements.
Another tnchotomy, a distinction between 'histoire', 'recif and 'narration', has
been suggested by Genette (1983: lOf). Genette's level of the 'histoire' seems to
correspond to Stierle's level of 'Geschichte', and Genette's level of 'recif to
148 Roland Harweg
2. Fact-sequence-time
The phenomenon of 'fact-sequence-time' is not a homogeneous one in
itself, and it not only permits division into sub phenomena but it can
also be divided into different sub-phenomena from differing perspect-
ives. I divide it into different sub phenomena under two points of
views, that is, an ontological and an epistemological.
reasonable. This is, of course, even truer for clock time statements than
it is for calendncal statements.
The level of material as well as the level of formal fact-sequence-
time consists of a multitude of strands. However, the number of strands
of formal fact-sequence-time comprises only a small percentage of the
number of strands of material fact-sequence-time; for the majority of
the strands of formal fact-sequence-time is, as is generally known, only
a function of the difference between geographical places, and for those
places that belong to the same time zone, only one single strand of
formal time is valid anyway. This aside, differences of time zones do
have a more or less clear effect on clock time and day limits, but -
since the extensive worldwide leveling of culturally founded differ-
ences in calendars - they impact only insignificantly on the year limits.
Of time differences on a higher level, only the seasonal differences
between places of the northern and places of the southern hemisphere
on earth are not accessible to the worldwide leveling, because they are
not culturally, but geographically and astronomically founded, unless
you do not define the seasons according to the state of the sun, but ac-
cording to their sequence in the course of the year, in other words, in
their sequence in the course of a year that begins or could begin at the
same time everywhere, with a difference of maximally one day.
Formal strands of fact-sequence-time are, different from the material
ones, not only few in numbers but can also, because of the equality of
the length of their units, be correlated to each other. Therefore, it would
be theoretically possible to reduce the various formal strands of fact-
sequence-time to a single one. In fact, this is exactly what has been
done in astronomy by declaring the medial time of the zero meridian of
Greenwich to be the normal time known as 'world time'. Different
from the formal strands, the various material strands of fact-sequence-
time cannot, as was stated above, be correlated to each other because
they are not composed of elements of the same length. They can also
not be correlated to each other as complete units. Aside from cases in
which different material strands of fact-sequence-time meet each other
and then partially interfere with one another - for they run, in contrast
to locally different formal strands, not always separately - and aside
from cases in which they run at the same place, we do not even know
how they could be localised in time with respect to each other as units.
Such localisation of locally different material strands of fact-sequence-
time that do not appear in the same area of perception is generally only
possible by a recourse to units of formal fact-sequence-time.
But material strands of fact-sequence-time can often, even in most
cases, not be correlated to each other. Moreover, in most cases, a mater-
150 Roland Harweg
Other than from the ontological point of view, the phenomenon of fact-
sequence-time can also be sub-categonsed from the perspectives of epi-
stemology and knowledge theory.
The main distinction from the perspective of epistemology and
knowledge theory is the one between objective and subjective fact-
sequence-time. But can the fact-sequence-time that has been labelled as
objective really be recognised and known? Is not a fact-sequence-time
that is not perceived or, to be more precise, not perceived and experi-
enced, and more so, the fact-sequence-time that is only known in retro-
spect eo ipso always a subjective fact-sequence-time?
Yes and no. Yes insofar as the perceived and experienced fact-
sequence-time is, in fact, always subjective, if and as long as the per-
ceiving-experiencing entity is a human being, or, more precisely: a
152 Roland Harweg
mere human being, a human being with human possibilities and abilit-
ies. But not if the perceiving-experiencing and the perceived then re-
cording and then knowing entity is, in place of a human being, a film
camera or a sound recorder or, instead of the ordinary human being, a
Active super human. Both entities register, as one is inclined to assume,
objectively the fact-sequence. The objective eye of the camera has
already become proverbial. And why should a fictitious super human
who is able to perceive, like the majority of fictitious third person nar-
rators in fictional narratives who can perceive what the characters
which they narrate about think and feel, not be in a position to perceive
sequences of facts objectively and then save them objectively in their
brains? At least, each longer conversation that is reproduced literally
bears witness to their super human abilities to save the experienced and
to recall it from their memory.
To recapitulate: a fact-sequence-time that is perceived, saved and re-
called by a normal human being is subjective, but this subjective fact-
sequence-time is subjective in varying degrees. The least subjective, of
course, is a fact-sequence-time that is perceived isochromcally; all re-
membered fact-sequence-times are more subjective. At best, they can
meet the relative degree of objectivity of isochromcally perceived fact-
sequence-time on selected occasions. Of course, even on selected occa-
sions, they cannot surpass it. What they are able to surpass and occa-
sionally really do surpass is the degree of understanding because a re-
membered sequence of facts is probably often understood better than an
actually perceived one.
At certain points, a specific kind of fact-sequence-time can interfere
with the remembered fact-sequence-time that runs through all degrees
of closeness and distance to objectivity. I would like to name it 'recon-
structed fact-sequence-time'. As a rule, the reconstruction aims at elim-
inating gaps or doubts in the remembered 'fact-sequence-times' accord-
ing to certain facts. But this can also lead to a retrospective correction
of sequences that did not, at first, raise any doubts in memory. At least
in the most favorable cases, the reconstruction is able to insert compon-
ents of objective fact-sequence-time into strands of subjective fact-
sequence-time und thus to objectify them partially. However, this ob-
jectification can probably only be relative, as it can never totally elim-
inate the subjectivity of its base.
The re-constructible fact-sequence-time, or more precisely: the re-
constructible components of fact-sequence-time can be reconstructed in
detail to a varying degree. Accordingly, their share in fact-sequence-
times differs. It is the greater the less detailed it is, supposed that it is
Story-time and Fact-sequence-time 153
9
The level of fictitious fact-sequence-time attributed to a fictional text is the time
level of rts fictitious world. It rs a fictitious world drfferent not only from our non-
fictitious world (within which the interpreters of fictional narrative works
occasionally saw fit to locate the level of represented events, as opposed to that of
the plot). It is also different from the level manifesting itself in terms of tables of
contents, headlines of chapters and drafts, a level on which F.K. Stanzel (1979,
39ff) believed the story of a fictional narrative work to manifest itself. For while
the facts embedded in the fact-sequence-time are at the same time also entities
which the fictitious narrator has found to exist in his fictitious world, the facts
referred to in tables of contents, headlines of chapters and drafts, are entities that
only exist in the imagination of non-fictitious authors. On tables of contents and
drafts, see besides Stanzel 1979: 39ff, also R. Harweg 1979a.
10
Normally, the time of which a fictitious text narrates should not be regarded as
fictitious, at least not when it is dated, using data of years.
154 Roland Harweg
11
The parameter of selection has been observed in literature on narrative theory
before. However, here it is inappropriately addressed within the framework of a
different opposition of time levels, that is in the traditional opposition of 'discourse-
time' (Erzahlzeit) and 'story-time' {erzahlte Zeit). An example for this treatment of
the parameter is the one by G. Genette (1971: 99ff) and following him, S. Chatman
(1978 [1983]: 68ff). They recur to the term of ellipsis, a term that refers to the
restitution of time and form, so to speak, the systematically complementary term to
selection. Chatman defines this term as a procedure of narration in which the
discourse-time is not only shorter than the story-time but almost zero. According to
him, only in this way can the discourse-time continue, if, for example, there are
three of four non-narrated hours between two chapters. These three of four hours of
story-time are then zero. But such an interpretation is obviously wrong because the
process of narration - and only this constitutes this narration - is not interrupted
between the two chapters. At least, we have no indication for the assumption that
the fictitious narrator paused at the end of a chapter or that he paused there for a
longer time, as a fictitious reader would pause and which would correspond to the
contingent of empty space in the written text. Although, under certain
circumstances, he is not refused a chance to pause there, like e.g. a fictitious reader
is not refused a chance to pause there, perhaps for several hours, but such a pause
would obviously not stand in an intrinsic relation to an accordingly long non-
narrated time, more precisely: an accordingly long non-narrated fact-sequence-time.
That shows that the correlation of story-time and discourse-time, as interesting as it
may be as a playful moment, does not make sense from the point of view of theory.
Not story-time and discourse-time, but story-time and fact-sequence time are the
levels which logically have to be compared with each other when dealing with
selection according to time of an ellipsis. For only two levels can logically be
compared to each other that, like the level of story-time and fact-sequence-time, are
related in, semiotically seen, a naturally motivated way, and not two levels that, like
story-time and discourse-time, are in an artificial-arbitrary relation to each other.
The relation - more precise: the durative relation - between story-time and
discourse-time is not of semiotic, but only of physical interest.
Story-time and Fact-sequence-time 155
ing to the relation of its size to the specificity of the genre poetics of the
text - unique example for such an attempt to reconstruct, is the chapter
'Disappeared Journey' in Peter de Mendelssohn's Biography of Thomas
Mann Der Zauberer (The Magician)" It is devoted to the reconstruc-
tion of an unknown trip of Thomas Mann to Pans. In this chapter, the
biographer evaluates oral as well as written documents. The first ones,
utterances by Thomas Mann's wife Katja, state that she does not know
anything about this trip, and the latter, quotations from letters and other
texts by Thomas Mann, hint only ambiguously and more or less indir-
ectly to this trip.
The strands of story-time, belonging to various texts that are inde-
pendent of each other, but relating to one and the same strand of fact-
sequence-time, differ from it in the way that they, put together, do not
form a strand themselves. Rather, they may only be able to form one in
a re-narration that integrates them in a line. But this lack of succession
and linearity of those strands can also be found in the opposite direction
when a multitude of more or less simultaneous strands of fact-
sequence-time corresponds with one strand of story-time within a
single text. Thus, for a linguist who cares for symmetry between the
levels, this would be no reason to desist from a consideration of strands
of story-time that can be related to one single strand of fact-sequence-
time in a multitude of texts.
However, already on the level of the practitioner, it is not always
possible to recur to a multitude of texts in order to mutually integrate in
a linear fashion their respective strands of story-time so that they can be
related to one and the same strand of fact-sequence-time. Although this
can be done, at least principally, in the field of non-fictional narratives,
that is, in the non-fictional cosmos of narration (where one has to apply
this strategy for practical reasons, as for example in the case of judges
and historians), it is principally not possible to follow this approach in
the field of fictional narrative texts. To recur to other fictional texts is
not an option if we understand by fictional text, as is the general rule,
only the highest-order and most inclusive fictional narrative. In other
words, we exclude the possibility to recur to embedded conversations
or letters inside a narrative or a novel but may only use the respective
narratives and novels themselves and, in case the narratives are com-
ponents of a consistent series or and the novels components of a con-
sistent cycle, then we may recur to these series and cycles themselves.
For all these most integrative fictional texts relate to only one fictitious
world respectively. That means, for example, that the strands of story-
time in various novels which do not happen to belong to one and the
12
See P. de Mendelssohn 1975: 764-69.
Story-time and Fact-sequence-time 157
tious world that are related to the strands of story-time in various em-
bedded narrative texts, for example, various conversations or letters
that occur in one and the same novel. However, the strands of story-
time of various conversations and/or letters in one and the same novel
do not have to relate necessarily to different strands of fact-sequence-
time, they can relate to one and the same strand. In this case and under
certain circumstances, they allow a linear mutual integration.
The phenomenon of narrative invention seems to be in opposition to
the phenomenon of narrative selection; for, in the same way as the phe-
nomenon of narrative selection leads to the underrepresentation of the
level of story-time against the level of fact-sequence-time, the phe-
nomenon of the narrative invention, that is, the phenomenon that seems
to basically constitute narrative texts, seems to lead to an overrepresent-
ation of the level of story-time compared to fact-sequence-time. But do
the fictional narrative texts, as implied in the term of overrepresenta-
tion, really miss the level of fact-sequence-time?
This is a question which, at a closer look, cannot be answered off-
hand in this way because, strictly speaking, the expression 'fictional
narrative text' is a contradiction in itself. Strictly speaking, it signifies a
phenomenon belonging to two different worlds, on one hand to this our
non-fictitious world, and on the other hand to a certain fictitious one -
two worlds with different creators of this phenomenon, the non-ficti-
tious author and the fictitious narrator.15 As a product of the fictitious
narrator, the text is a narrative only in his fictitious world, and there we
find, as has been stressed several times, a level of fact-sequence-time in
addition to the level of story-time. But in this our non-fictitious world,
the so-called fictional narrative text is no narrative in the strict sense
but only an invention. But if in this, our non-fictitious world, it is not
narration, then it cannot possess a level of story-time. Can it then have
a level of fact-sequence-time? Not a really secure one. At best an inven-
ted one. But should one not simply call it the level of invented time? In
any case, the phenomenon which has been defined as overrepresenta-
tion of story-time over fact-sequence-time, is, at least as far as the so-
called fictional narrative texts are concerned, a mere pseudo-phenomen-
on. It remains to be seen if this is also the case with lies,that is, in the
case of texts that cannot be counted as fictional texts although they do
represent inventions albeit combined with certain elements of reality.
15
See Harweg 1979a and 1979b.
Story-time and Fact-sequence-time 159
(1) Herr Spinell saB der Gattin Herrn Kloterjahns bei Tische gegentiber.
Zur ersten Mahlzeit, an der die Herrschaften teilnahmen, erschien er ein
wenig zu spat in dem groBen Speisesaal im ErdgeschoB des Seitenfliigels,
sprach mit weicher Stimme einen an alle gerichteten GruB und begab sich
an seinen Plate, worauf Doktor Leander ihn ohne viel Zeremonie den neu
Angekommenen vorstellte. Er verbeugte sich und begann dann, offenbar
ein wenig verlegen, zu essen, indent er Messer und Gabel mit seinen
groiten, weiiten und schon geformten Handen, die aus sehr engen Armeln
hervorsahen, in ziemlich affektierter Weise bewegte. Spater ward er frei
und betrachtete in Gelassenheit abwechselnd Herrn Kloterjahn und seine
Gattin. Auch richtete Herr Kloterjahn im Verlaufe der Mahlzeit einige Fra-
gen und Bemerkungen betreffend die Anlage und das Klima von "Einfried"
an ihn, in die seine Frau in ihrer lieblichen Art zwei oder drei Worte ein-
flieBen lieB, und die Herr Spinell hoflichbeantwortete.
Herr Spinell sat opposite Herr Kloterjahn's wife at table. On the occasion
of the new guests' first appearance in the great dining-room on the ground
floor of the side wing, he arrived a minute or two late, murmured a greeting
to the company and took his seat, whereupon Dr Leander, without much
ceremony, introduced him to the new arrivals. He bowed and began to eat,
evidently a trifle embarrassed, and manoeuvring his knife and fork in a
rather affected manner with his large, white, well formed hands which
emerged from very narrow coat sleeves. Later he seemed less ill at ease
and looked calmly by turns at Herr Kloterjahn and at his wife. Herr Kloter-
jahn too, in the course of the meal, addressed one or two questions and re-
marks to him about the topography and climate of Einfried; his wife also
interspersed a few charming words, and Herr Spinell answered politely.17
In this sequence of phrases, the first sentence indicates the places taken
by Mr. Spinell and Mrs. Kloterjahn in the dimng-hall at mealtime over
a longer period of time. These places are obviously determined by a
table order. The text indicates the places, and at the same time, albeit in
a very abstract way, the time that they spend at these places during the
meals. This is an ambiguity according to which the time factually spent
during the meals is discontinuous, and the time filled with the table or-
der is a continuous time which, at the first meal, already includes the
seconds before the described actual place taken by Mr. Spinell occurs
and, therefore, his belated appearance in the dining hall. The sequence
of sentences that follow on the opening one then indicate only one of
the many meals during which Mr. Spinell and Mrs. Kloterjahn sit op-
posite each other, and they also indicate this meal as the first.
A restriction of story-time with indefinite explicit localisation of the
product of restriction exists everywhere, i.e. where story-time tran-
17
Th. Mann 1958: 225, resp. Th. Mann 1998: lOOf.
162 Roland Harweg
(2) [...] Aschenbach erwartete taglich Tadzios Auftreten, und zuweilen tat
er, als sei er beschaftigt, wenn es sich vollzog, und lieB den Schonen
scheinbar unbeachtet voriibergehen. Zuweilen aber auch blickte er auf, und
ihre Blicke trafen sich. Sie waren beide tiefernst, wenn das geschah. In der
gebildeten und wiirdevollen Miene des Alteren verriet nichts eine innere
Bewegung; aber in Tadzios Augen war ein Forschen, ein nachdenkliches
Fragen, in seinen Gang kam ein Zogern, er blickte zu Boden, er blickte
lieblich wieder auf, und wenn er voriiber war, so schien ein Etwas in seiner
Haltung auszudriicken, daB nur Erziehung inn hinderte, sich umzuwenden.
Einmal jedoch, eines Abends, begab es sich anders. [...]
[...] Aschenbach waited daily for Tadzio to make his appearance and
sometimes pretended to be busy when he did so, letting the boy pass him
seemingly unnoticed. But sometimes, too, he would look up, and their eyes
would meet. They would both be deeply serious when this happened. In the
cultural and dignified countenance of the older man, nothing betrayed an
inner emotion; but in Tadzio's eyes there was an inquiry, a thoughtful
questioning, his walk became hesitant, he looked at the ground, looked
sweetly up again, and when he had passed, something in his bearing
seemed to suggest that only good breeding restrained him from turning to
lookback.
But once, one evening, it was different. [...]"
(3) Das gute Wetter hielt an. [...] Der Gattin Herrn Kloterjahns ging es
leidlich in dieser Zeit; sie war fieberfrei, hustete fast gar nicht und aB ohne
allzu viel Widerwillen. Oftmals saB sie, wie das ihre Vorschrift war, stun-
denlang im sonnigen Frost auf der Terrasse. [...] Dann bemerkte sie zuwei-
len Herrn Spinell, wie er [...] sich im Garten erging. Er ging mit tastenden
Schritten und einer gewissen behutsamen und steif-graziosen Armhaltung
durch den Schnee, griiBte sie ehrerbietig, wenn er zur Terrasse kam, und
stieg die unteren Stufen hinan, um ein kleines Gesprach zu beginnen.
"Heute, auf meinem Morgenspaziergang, habe ich eine schone Frau gese-
18
Th. Mann 1958: 497, rsp. Th. Mann 1998: 243.
Story-time and Fact-sequence-time 163
hen ... Gott, sie war schon!" sagte er, legte den Kopf auf die Seite und
spreizte die Hande.
The fine weather continued. [...] At this period Herr Kloterjahn's wife
seemed to be in tolerably good health; she had no fever, scarcely coughed
at all, and had not too bad appetite. Often she would sit out on the terrace
for hours in the frost and the sun [...]. Sometimes she would see Herr
Spinell walking in the garden. [...] He walked through the snow with a
tentative gait and a careful, prim posture of the arms; when he reached the
terrace he would greet her very respectfully and mount the steps to engage
her in a little conversation.
'I saw a beautiful woman on my morning walk today ... Ah, dear me, how
beautiful she was!' he said, tilting his head to one side and spreading out
his hands.19
In this sequence of phrases, the story-time is, in the first phrases, partly
durative and partly iterative: durative in the case of the predicate hielt
an (continued), and in the case of adverbial adjunct in dieser Zeit (at
this period), and iterative in the case of the adverbial adjunct oftmals
(often), dann and zuweilen (sometimes), and the conjunction wenn
(when). The last phrase of the sequence of phrases, the first sentence of
a conversation between Mr Spinell and Mrs Kloterjahn, then indicates,
without being explicit, the beginning of a unique event, and that is a
conversation which is indicated as unique by content and extensiveness.
However, the quoted sequence of phrases is not only an example for
implicit restriction; it is, at the same time, an example for an act that
could be called a thinning {Ausdiinnung). In this sequence of phrases,
thinning - an act that precedes the restriction - consists of the segment-
ation of the primarily narrated sentence into iterative discontinuing ele-
ments. This is done in two steps, with the adverbs 'often' {oftmals) and
'then' {dann) at the first step, and at the second step with the adverb
'sometimes' {zuweilen) and the conjunction 'when' {wenn). These are
expressions that, together with their predicates, perform an iterative
partialising selection from the denotative domains of the expressions
'often' {oftmals) and 'then' {dann) and their predicates.
Also, the ascendant, that is, the variant of altitudinal story-time that
leads from the concrete to the abstract and thus indicates a temporal ex-
tension of the initial temporal section, does not always explicitly indic-
ate this change, in this case an extension instead of a restriction. The
extension is called explicit, e.g. in the case of ascendant story-time
which makes up the end of the second chapter of the eleventh part of
Thomas Mann's Buddenbrooks. Beginning with the rattling of the
19
Th. Mann 1958: 229f., resp. Th. Mann 1998: 105f.
164 Roland Harweg
alarm clock in the early morning, the chapter describes in detail the
course of a weekday in the life of the young Johann Buddenbrook,
called Hanno. The last sentence resumes: 'This was one day in the life
of the little Johann' ('Dies war ein Tag aus dem Leben des kleinen Jo-
hann'). The sentence expands the day, albeit in the most possible vague
way, explicitly into a section of time that might include - in its function
as pars pro toto - if not the whole life of the little Johann, but neverthe-
less certainly some years of the same.
On the other side, in the sentence that follows the last sentence of
sequence (1), the ascendant extension of the story-time is only implicit:
Auch richtete Herr Kloterjahn im Verlaufe der Mahlzeit einige Fragen und Be-
merkungen betreffend die Anlage und das Klima von "Einfried" an inn, in die
seine Frau in ihrer lieblichen Art zwei oder drei Worte einflieiten liefl, und die
Herr Spinell hoflich beantwortete
Herr Kloterjahn too, in the course of the meal, addressed one or two questions
and remarks to him about the topography and climate of Einfried; his wife also
interspersed a few charming words, and Herr Spinell answered politely).
The following sentence Seine Stimme war mild und recht angenehm;
aber er hatte eine etwas behinderte und schlurfende Art zu sprechen,
ah seien seine Zahne der Zunge im Wege (His voice was soft and really
quite agreeable, though he had a slightly impeded, dragging way of
speaking, as if his teeth were getting in the way of his tongue) also
refers to the situation described in the sentence before - but this is not
explicitly said.
20
See Th. Mann 1986: 200 and 238ff.
166 Roland Harweg
I will not analyse the sequence of phrases here; it shows a strand of re-
gredient story-time that continuously steps eight steps back into the an-
teriority without being interrupted by any progredient steps. But per-
haps it can be sensed that the precise analysis of such regredient re-
arrangements of progrediently narrating texts and the comparison of
these rearrangements with their progrediently narrating originals gives
us the opportunity to gain deeper insights in the possibilities and limits
of regredient narration.
In the longitudinal dimension and with regard to time direction, the dif-
ference between fact-sequence-time and story-time is restricted to the
case of regredient story-time because within the longitudinal dimen-
sion, fact-sequence-time always has a direction. In the latitudinal and
the altitudinal dimension, we can observe a difference between the re-
spective fact-sequence-time and each of the two opposing directions of
story-time, as within these, fact-sequence-time is without own direc-
tion. However, if on the level of story-time these dimensions appear in
combination - and that is not infrequent - then there always exists, lo-
gically speaking, a specific difference of direction between fact-
sequence-time and story-time. And in addition, both levels of time al-
ways exhibit, as we remember, differences in quality. For a story-time
is, at least compared to objective time - or to the variety of subjective
fact-sequence-times that comes close to objectivity - always the
product of a selection.
Story-time and Fact-sequence-time 169
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nung, Perspektivik, Substitution', m: K. Eimermacher & P. Gnybek (eds.): Zeichen
- Text-Kultur. Bochum: Brockmeyer, 187-212.
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JANCHRISTOPHMEISTER
Introduction
1
Barthes, Roland (1989). The Rustle of Language. Berkeley: U of California P.
2
English language contributions to narrative theory and narratology sometimes use
the terms 'fictional', 'Active' and fictitious' as synonyms. This terminological
laissez-faire, however, encourages a confusion of representational and ontological
predicates. In the following I will therefore adhere to the more consistent
definitions formulated in Schmid (2010): 'Fictive = a property of elements (time,
space, situations, characters, actions) contained in the represented world of fictional
works' and 'Fictional = a property of representations of fictive worlds'; Schmid,
Wolf (2010). Narratology: An Introduction. Berlin/New York: de Gruyter, 245.
The terminological opposites are thus fictive vs. real (ontological distinction) and
fictional vs. factual (representational distinction).
172 Jan Chnstoph Master
5
On the systems of the time-philosophical discussion, see Le Poidevm, Robin: 'The
Experience and Perception of Time,' in: E.N. Zalta (ed.): The Stanford Ency-
clopedia of Philosophy (Winter 2009 Edition), <http://plato.stanford.edu/-
archives/win2009/entnes/time-expenence/ (11.11.2010)> Attempts to mediate
between the two threads of the debate can be found in Le Poidevm, Robin;
MacBeath, Murray, eds. (1993). The Philosophy of Time. Oxford: Oxford UP. A
systematic study of the connection between the expenence of time and
metaphysical concepts of time is provided by Mclnerney, Peter K. (1992). Time
and Experience. Philadelphia: Temple UP.
6
Kant, Immanuel: 'On the schematism of the pure concepts of understanding,' m:
174 Jan Chnstoph Master
Now one sees from all this that the schema of each category [presupposes
and conceptualises; JCM] time itself, as the correlate of the determination
of whether and how an object belongs to time. The schemata are therefore
nothing but a priori time-determinations in accordance with rules, and
these concern, according to the order of the categories, the time-series, the
content of time, the order of time, and finally the sum total of time in re-
gard to all possible objects.7
In the preceding exposition, Kant had argued that all acts of reason can
be reduced to judgments, reason thus being defined as the 'ability to
judge'. This 'judging' does not constitute a direct verdict on individual
sensory (empirical) intuition, but rather a 'cognition through concepts'
- that is, a judging on the basis of an abstract, generalising conception,
in which are gathered together the common features of all objects fall-
ing under the same conceptual definition. In view of a plate, for ex-
ample, I reach the judgment, 'This is a plate', by comparing the con-
crete, empirically given intuition with a 'concept' of a plate as an ob-
ject, which, inter alia, has the general definition 'circular'. This 'sub-
sumption of an object under a concept'8 is, according to Kant, evidently
unproblematic insofar as the analogy itself can be empirically ob-
served, as with the example of the plate, whose geometrical definition
as 'circular' does clearly come to the fore in the concrete object.
However, things are different with the judgmental application of the
so-called 'pure concepts' - this is, those a priori terms which have no
empirical analogue, but rather establish the possibility of empirical (ex-
ternal) and sensible (internal) intuition: space and time. How should
Critique of Pure Reason. First edition 1781. Quotations in the following are taken
from the Cambridge-Edition of the works of Immanuel Kant (see Fn 7).
7
Kant, Immanuel (1997). Critique of Pure Reason. Translated and Edited by Paul
Guyer, Allen W. Wood. Cambridge: Cambridge UP (= The Cambridge Edition of
the Works of Immanuel Kant), A 145, 275-276. Hereafter cited as Kant CPR. -
The quotation reads in full: 'Now one sees from all this that the schema of each
category contains and makes representable: in the case of magnitude, the generation
(synthesis) of time itself, in the successive apprehension of an object; in the case of
the schema of quality, the synthesis of sensation (perception) with the
representation of time, or the filling of time; in the case of the schema of relation,
the relation of the perceptions among themselves to all time (i.e., in accordance
with a rule of time-determination); finally, in the schema of modality and its
categones, time itself, as the correlate of the determination of whether and how an
object belongs to time.' - Kant CPR, A145, 275-276. The second edition of the
Critique from 1787 takes on the entire first part unaltered.
8
Kant CPR, 271 -A137/B176.
The Temporality Effect 175
one imagine mediation between this type of pure concept and an object
(say, the fact of the limited duration of a plate)? The 'mediating repres-
entation' required here, i.e. the abstract tertium comparationis of pure
concepts and objects of both empirical and sensible intuition is, accord-
ing to Kant, the so-called 'transcendental schema'. This schema, simil-
ar to the image of an object created in us, is not a product of the ima-
gination (so, again, 'transcendental' and not objectively given). On the
other hand, nor is it a pictorial representation, but rather the 'represent-
ation of a method' for representing 'the image itself 'in accordance
with a certain concept'.9 However, this transcendental schema, which
establishes in the first place the methodical nexus between the forms of
external and internal intuition - space and time - developed by Kant in
his Transcendental Aesthetic, is that of time-determination. This is be-
cause our reason must, in order to be able to judge at all, while simul-
taneously securing its own identity by linking distinct representations,10
necessarily undertake temporal time-determinations of itself as well as,
on the other hand, assigning time determinations to occurrences in or-
der to be able to observe them as distinct. It is therefore time-determin-
ation that is common to all three - the intuitions of objects, the con-
cepts and categories applied to these, and judgmental reason itself- as
a transcendental schema." Kant deduces:
Time, as the formal condition of the manifold of inner sense, thus of the
connection of all representations, contains an a priori manifold in pure intu-
ition. Now a transcendental time-determination is homogeneous with the
category (which constitutes its unity) insofar as it is universal and rests on
a rule a priori. But it is on the other hand homogeneous with the appear-
ance insofar as time is contained in every empirical representation of the
manifold. Hence an application of the category to appearances becomes
possible by means of the transcendental time-determination which, as the
9
Kant CPR, 273 -A140/B179.
10
This doubled basis between the capability for synthetic judgment and the identity of
the judging subject may not, however, as Kant makes explicit in his critique of the
so-called 'Paralogisms', be taken as an indicator of objective I-identity.
11
This simplifying summary leaves unexamined Kant's further conclusions about the
distinction between empirical and transcendental apperception. The unity of
consciousness necessary for synthetic judgments cannot, according to Kant, be
determined by time-bound empirical apperception. This unity can be founded only
in transcendental reference to a noumenal, atemporal subject; see Chamberlain,
Jane (1998). 'Thinking Time: Ricoeur's Husserl in Time and Narrative; in: Minerva
-An Internet Journal of Philosophy, Vol. 2, http://www.ul.ie/~philos-/vol2/husserl.html
(28.12.2010)
176 Jan Chnstoph Master
12
Kant CPR, 272 -A138/139/B177/178.
13
Kant formulates his postulate as follows: 'But, on the contrary, we dispute all claim
of time to absolute reality, namely where it would attach to things absolutely as a
condition or property even without regard to the form of our sensible intuition.
Such properties, which pertain to things in themselves, can never be given to us
through the senses. In this therefore consists the transcendental ideality of time,
according to which it is nothing at all if one abstracts from the subjective conditions
of sensible intuition, and cannot be counted as either subsisting or inhering in the
objects in themselves (without their relation to our intuition).' - Kant CPR, 164 -
A 35/36/B52.
The Temporality Effect 177
We cannot say all things are in time, because with the concept of things in
general abstraction is made from every kind of intuition of them, but this is
the real condition under which time belongs to the representation of ob-
jects. Now if the condition is added to the concept, and the principle says
that all things as appearances (objects of sensible intuition) are in time, then
the principle has its sound objective correctness and a priori universality.14
diously located in space - they occupy their spatial location; events tolerate
co-location [Quinton 1979, Hacker 1982b]. Objects can move; events can-
not [Dretske 1967]. Objects are continuants - they are in time and they per-
sist through time by being wholly present at every time at which they exist;
events are occurrents - they take up time and they persist by having differ-
ent parts (or "stages") at different times [Mellor 1980].»
- One, how at all - that is, with which principal conditions and
prerequisites - is it possible to achieve an idea of the temporal
order in a Active world through the reading of narrative texts?
- Two, how do we achieve a consciousness of the temporality of
that mediative process itself, by virtue of which our pictorial
representation of this Active world and its internal temporal or-
der emerge?
- Three, to what extent does the temporality of the mediative
process - independent of whether it comes to our conscious-
ness or not - have a retroactive effect on our delineation of the
Active world's chronology?
21
Saint Augustine (2008). The Confessions. Translated with an Introduction and Notes by
Henry Chadwick. Oxford: Oxford UP (= Oxford World's Classics). See also the
translation by A. Outler, Augustine: Confessions. <http://ccel.org/a/augustine/-
confessions/confessions-bod.html> (11.11.201029.11.01) or: The Confessions of
Augustine. An Electronic Editon. Text and Commentary by James J. O'Donnell
<http://www.stoa.org/hippo/> (11.11.2010).
182 Jan Chnstoph Master
22
Heidegger, Martin: 'Des hi. Augustmus Betrachtung ilber die Zeit. Confessiones lib
XI', quoted by Fischer (2000: XI). Fischer, for his part, quotes from a hitherto
unpublished copy of a lecture of Heidegger's in the Abbey of St Martin, Beuron,
26.10.1930, which will appear in volume 80 of Heidegger's complete works; cf
Fischer, Norbert (2000). 'Einleitung,' in: Aurelius Augustinus: Was ist Zeit?
Hamburg: Meiner, XI-LXIV).
23
It is particularly his precedence in view of existentialist philosophy of time that is
often emphasised; so for example in Brann, Eva T.H. (1999). 'Augustine As
Phenomenologist: A Time Diagram,' m: Hopkins, B.C. (ed.). Phenomenology:
Japanese and American Perspectives. Dordrecht: Kluwer. Also in Herrmann,
Fnednch-Wilhelm von (1993). 'Augustinus und die phanomenologische Frage
nach der Zeit,' m: Philosophisches Jahrbuch 100: 96-113.
24
Compare O'Donnell's critical meta-commentary: 'The last three books of the
Confessions are the pnncipal obstacle to the work's reputation for greatness in the
literary, as well as the psychological or theological, order. One scholar recounted
no less than nineteen different theories that had been devised to explain their
presence and their relation to the rest of the work, then proceeded to add his own.'
In: O'Donnell, James O. (2001) >http://www9.georgetown.edu/faculty/-
jod/twayne/aug5.html> (11.11.2010) . O'Donnell is here referring to Grotz, Klaus
(1970). Die Einheit der 'Confessiones'. Tubingen: Diss. U of Tubingen. - On this
question see also the section 'Zur Diskussion urn das hteransche Genus der
Confessiones' in Fischer's (2000: XXVff; Fn 22) introduction to the edition of the
Confessiones XI. Fischer refers, inter aha, to the example of the Wilhelm
Bornemann edition, which simply omitted books 10-12. See: Augustins
Bekenntnisse. In neuer Ubers. und mit einer EM. dargeboten von W. Bornemann.
Gotha 1888. (=Bibhothek theologischer Klassiker 12).
The Temporality Effect 183
tality of the Confessions." The apparent gap in the transition from the
ninth to the tenth and especially to the eleventh books of the Confes-
sions makes the fundamental complexity of the themes of 'time' and
'temporality' exemplanly clear, and show that Augustine had already
anticipated the basic idea of the Kantian argument: that of the unavoid-
able subjectivity of the empirical concept of time, which can be dis-
pelled only through a transcendental or theological explanation of time.
What Augustine reconstructs and relates in the first nine books of the
Confessions is not, after all, only the disinterestedly observed case of
someone else's biography, whose myriad individual moments and indi-
vidual events are ultimately smelted to a solid chain by the conscien-
tiousness and skill of the biographer. It is rather a case of his own life,
which is relating itself and thereby encounters the paradox of always
having to imagine itself standing outside that temporal concatenation in
order to be able to make it all possible to describe it own entanglement
in an ordered temporality. The tenth and eleventh books demonstrate
with the transition from the level of representation to that of reflection,
that this is a case of an, in the profoundest sense, 'time-conscious'
autobiography that has become aware of its own apona. In these cir-
cumstances, it can no longer exhaust itself in objectivising the linkage
of events represented as memory into the linearity of before - after.
Rather, Augustine understands every point in the imaginary chain he
25
See Fischer (2000; cf Fn 22). Fischer's general interpretation, developed from the
perspective of the eleventh chapter, sees in the autobiographical narration of Books
1-9 a practical realisation of Augustine's own fixedness in time, in Book 10 a
reflexive abstraction from the autobiography to problems of memory, which is
elucidated more thoroughly in Book 11 in terms of the problems of human
understanding of time and our own existential fixedness in time. In the central 11 *
book, Fischer sees three approaches to the clarification of the concept of time: an
attempted empirical inference failed for Augustine with the realisation that this
would lead to an unacceptable objectivising of time; the realisation that time is as a
distentio animi an effect of the 'actions of the spirit, in which the past, present and
future are realized' (ibid., p. LV) did provide, for Augustine, a plausible
explanation, but would also indicate the aporetic consequences of the temporal
'stretching' of the spirit. So Augustine came to the conviction that going beyond
the immanent distentio animi is possible only through transcendence and
unification with God. - Paul J. Archambault (1984. 'Augustine, Time and Auto-
biography as Language,' m: Augustinian Studies 15: 7-13) proposes the thesis that
Augustine 'establishes a theoretical basis for autobiographical narrative by
showing, through his excellent analysis of memory, that life is not serial but that it
can be entirely recalled in a single instant.' With that, the weighting is turned on its
heads; the Augustinian meditation on time would then be serving the
autobiography.
184 Jan Chnstoph Master
The 'sensed' temporal data are not merely sensed; they are 'charged' with
characteristic modes of apprehension, and to these in turn belong certain
claims and entitlements: to measure against one another the times and tem-
poral relations that appear on the basis of the sensed data, to bring them
into this or that objective order, and to distinguish various apparent and ac-
tual orders. What becomes constituted here as objectively valid being is fi-
nally the one infinite objective time in which all things and events - bodies
and their physical qualities, psyches and their psychic states - have their
definite temporal positions, which we can determine by means of a chrono-
meter.30
The fact that the stimulus endures still does not mean that the sensation is
sensed as enduring; it means only that the sensation also endures. The dura-
tion of sensation and sensation of duration are two very different things.
And this is equally true of succession. The succession of sensations and the
sensation of succession are not the same.32
30
Ibid., 7.
31
Ibid., 10. By these 'temporal laws', Husserl means the features of the unlinearily
directedness of the time arrow and the unambiguous determination of individual
points in time within a continuum.
32
188 Jan Chnstoph Master
34
Ibid., 170.
35
Ibid., 171.
36
Here, as in the following, we are leaving to one side the entire complex of the
protentional consciousness postulated by Husserl, the functions of which can be
thought of as analogous with those of retention.
37
Husserl PhCiT, 174; emphases in the original.
190 Jan Chnstoph Master
38
This interpretation of Husserl's philosophy of time, in the sense of a critical reading
of Kant, follows the theses of Chamberlain (1998; cf. Fn 11).
39
Husserl PhCiT, 355; emphases in the original.
The Temporality Effect 191
conclude that time is not an ultimate reality.' - Quoted from the electronic edition,
<http://ww.class.uidaho.edu/mckelsen/ToCMcTaggart.htm> (12.11.2010). Ori-
ginal edition: A Commentary on Hegel's Logic. New York: Russell & Russell
1964.
44
McTaggart, J. Ellis (1908). "The Unreality of Time,' in: Mind 17: 457^174.
45
Here we are largely taking on the portrayal in Schneewind 1967 (cf Fn 43) but are
supplementing it with the exposition of the C-senes. A usable but for short
summary is provided by Savitt, Steven: 'Being and Becoming in Modern Physics,'
in: E.N. Zalta (ed.). The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Winter 2008
Edition), http://plato.stanford.edu/archives/win2008/entries/spacetime-bebecome/
(12.11.2010).
46
McTaggart talks about events in the narrower sense of 'transformations'.
194 Jan Chnstoph Master
Our conclusion, then, is that neither time as a whole, nor the A series and B
series, really exist. But this leaves it possible that the C series does really
exist. The A series was rejected for its inconsistency. And its rejection in-
volved the rejection of the B series. But we have found no such contradic-
tion in the C series, [...].
It is, therefore, possible that the realities which we perceive as events in
time-series do really form a non-temporal series. It is also possible, so far
as we have yet gone, that they do not form such a series, and that they are in
reality no more a series than they are temporal. But I think [...] that the
former view, according to which they really do form a C series, is the more
probable.
Should it be true, it will follow that in our perception of these realities as
events in time, there will be some truth as well as some error. Through the
deceptive form of time, we shall grasp some of their true relations.49
The present [...] is really a part of the past - a recent past - delusively
given as being a time that intervenes between the past and the future. Let it
be named the specious present, and let the past, that is given as being the
past, be known as the obvious past.51
The concept was later elaborated upon by, among other, William James
and CD. Broad. The present has no clear delineation; it is a fleeting
49
McTaggart 1908: 473 (cf. Fn 44).
50
It is a case of anticipation despite its appeanng after 1904 (Husserl's lecture in
Gottmgen) insofar as McTaggart's basic idea was already developed in his 1896
Hegel commentary (cf.Fn 43).
51
Anonymous (= E. Robert Kelly 1882). The Alternative: A Study in Psychology.
London: Macmillan; quoted after: James 1899: 609 (cf. Fn48).
196 Jan Chnstoph Master
a) indexical ones, i.e. those that refer back to the subject of the statement
as a point of reference. These are statements about the A-series;
b) non-indexical ones, i.e. those that perform a relational determining of
position in the earlier - later continuum, which happens either through
the application of an absolute chronological marking of events, or also
contemplated the possibility that anything in the nature of the noumenon should
correspond to the time order which appears in the phenomenon.'
54
Ibid.: 'And how are we to deal with the appearance? If we reduce time and change
to appearance, must it not be to an appearance which changes and which is in time,
and is not in time, then shown to be real after all?'
55
Le Poidevin, Robin (1988). 'Time and Truth in Fiction,' m: The British Journal of
Aesthetics 28: 248-258.
198 Jan Chnstoph Master
could be made in the real time series about the ordering of the fictional
one:
[...] if the adventures of Don Quixote take place in a possible world, then
that world will have its own B-series, not connected temporally to us. Sim-
ilarly, there can be disjoint A-series: each world may have its own past,
present, and future, unconnected to ours. The difficulty arises if we try to
combine the idea that A-series statements are semantically independent of
B-series ones with the possibility of making A-series statements about fic-
tional events.
If we treat 'In the world of fiction fit is true that [...]' as a sentential operat-
or locating the referents of the terms which follow it in a possible world
[...], then temporal expressions such as 'before' as in 'It is true in f that (p
before q)' will not locate the events referred to in the actual world. How-
ever, the trick will not work for A-series terms. That is, placing 'p is past'
within the scope of the sentential operator will lead to an incoherent state-
ment. This is because we cannot make sense of an A-series temporally un-
connected with ours which is not relativised to some event, e.g., 'p is past
relative to q'. In other words any A-series statements which are genuinely
semantically independent of B-series statements will be about our A-ser-
ies.58
Put more simply: every concrete (not made within a fiction) statement
about the location of an event in a Active continuum of past-present-fu-
ture (= a Active A-senes) is unavoidably a statement about our own po-
sition in our real time - unless we were to refer this statement back to a
starting point in the Active B-senes, which would lead to an infinite re-
gress. The special case of the constitution of time in a fictionally nar-
rated possible world seems equally aporetic, if not even more problem-
atic than the 'time' perception in the real world discussed by McTag-
gart. To corroborate his argument, Le Poidevin discusses three con-
ceivable objections:
None of the three 'common sense' objections has so far been able to
conclusively show how one could find a reliable fiction-immanent ref-
erence point for A-senes statements about B-senes facts, which would
not in turn be somehow dependent upon the placing of a reference
point in the real A-senes of our own 'time'. However, there does ap-
pear to be one more possibility: We assume that every fictional report
is fundamentally to be imagined as having been expressed by an im-
manent narrator. With that, the anchor point of the A-senes statements,
which our premises imply are absolutely necessary for building up a
temporal structure, is placed firmly inside the fictional world: 'The
suggestion is to interpret all fiction [...] as being (explicitly or impli-
citly) told from the first-person perspective and that perspective de-
termines the position of events in the fictional A-senes.'61
59
Ibid., 252. - Le Poidevin makes it too easy for himself here. These kinds of so-
called 'metaleptic' statements are fairly common, particularly in late 18* / early 19th
century Romantic and 20th century postmodern literary narratives. On the
narratological concept as such see Pier, John: 'Metalepsis,' in: P. Hilhn et al. (eds.).
the living handbook of narratology. Hamburg: Hamburg University Press.
<hup.sub.um-hamburg.de/lhn/index.php?title=Metalepsis&oldid=802^20.11.2010.
60
Le Poidevin (ibid.) takes this objection even further: Let us assume that the identity
proposed by objection (3) was ^problematically given. The totality if time is then
imagined as being divided into individual sections and these individual time
sections are hypothetically thought of in terms of set-theory, as partial sets of the
total set of all events in the world. This partial set is made up of events which exist
either simultaneously (with the same B-designation) or in an ordered sequence (=
as a structured B-senes). Two 'worlds' would then be identical if it were possible to
make these kinds of event sets congruent. But that is not enough - since it is not
only the identity of the partial sets that is decisive, but also their sequence. This
kind of strong identity in the temporal structure would then raise the question of
what it is that still divides the two worlds!
61
The Temporality Effect 201
With this, Bien overall defends the realist position and the logical and
ontic primacy of the B-senes, which he positions as real and given -
and indeed independent of our representations and A-senes contextual-
63
Bien, Peter (1986). 'Zeiterfahrung und Personality,' in: H. Burger (ed.). Zeit,
Natur und Mensch: Beitrage von Wissenschaftlern zum Thema. Berlin: Berlin
Verlag A. Spitz, 261-281. Translated in the current volume as: 'Time Experience
and Personhood', 13-28.
64
Bien in the current volume, 17.
65
The Temporality Effect 203
66
Cf. ibid., 19ff.
67
Bien understands this as positioning. For him, there is no logical or even
metaphysical foundation for this exception to reality, even though pragmatic
reasons argue for it. The possibility is conceded throughout that epistemological or
transcendental philosophy will force us to the realisation that, because of the
necessanly temporal constitution of the realisation, the assumption of the reality of
time represents a circular proof.
68
Bien takes on essential components of Husserl's approach - including the concept
of the 'datum'. However, he does criticise the so-called 'phenomenological
reduction': the principle '"suspension" of objective and real time in time-
experience' needs to be undone. See also: Bien, Peter (1972). Zeit und Zeiter-
fahrung. Exposition eines Problembereichs. Frankfurt/M.: Suhrkamp, 200;
hereafter referred to as Bien, ZuZ.
69
Bien, ZuZ, 184. All English quotations of this text are my own translations.
70
Ibid., 202; emphases in the original.
71
Cf. Bien, ZuZ, 207. - In the later essay, 'Time Expenence and Personhood'
(contained in the present volume) Bien also asks in a Kantian way about 'the
conditions for a being to have an entity, a consciousness of time' (14).
204 JanChristophMeister
Real time as a B-series presents itself in the conscious events that it orders
through A-determinations, and this is possible because the former imply the
latter as their principle of construction.75
72
Bien, ZuZ, 203, including his footnote 14.
73
Cf.Bicri, ZuZ, 205ff.
74
Bien, ZuZ, 211.
75
Bien, ZuZ, 217.
The Temporality Effect 205
(1) A-series: the series in which the content of consciousness appears ac-
cording to a subjective determination in the continuum of fu-
ture-past-present.
(2) B-series: the series in which the contents of consciousness appear in the
more objective relation of earlier - later.
76
Bien, ZuZ, 221; emphases in the original.
77
Cf. Bien in the current volume, 13-28.
206 Jan Chnstoph Master
(3) C-series: the series in which the contents of consciousness are given in a
non-temporal order (e.g. as a set).
Strictly speaking, one should imagine the C-senes as the set of textual
signs given even before any reading. However, let us be more pragmat-
ic: for us, the C-senes is formed by the chain of lexemes and lexeme
groups functioning as the bearers of representational contents that we
decode and process in the form of mental images. In their overall com-
bination they are the base elements that, if the reception is successful,
evoke in the reader's consciousness a mental representation of a Active
or real world. These entities can be quasi-realia (things, people, more
generally put: existents) or ideal (events, situations, thoughts). The or-
ganising pnnciple, as a rule, is the syntax of natural language. Newer
medial forms of presentation, such as hypertexts, show that spatial
forms of organising pnnciple are also possible. Of course, each of
these organising pnnciples is already somehow affected by temporal-
ity; in this regard, one should remember Kant's definition of 'time' as a
'transcendental schema'. But this type of 'temporality' is purely formal
and abstract; it remains a 'possibility condition' without being expen-
enced as an actual phenomenon. To summarise, the C-senes is consti-
tuted by the linear sequence of mental images that runs in parallel to
that of the matenal symbolic elements that make up the text. In a liter-
ary nanative, these elements to which the secondary mental images at-
tach are the words and phrases of a natural language.
To illustrate the first step in our nanatological mapping of McTag-
gart's model let us consider as an example sentence the beginning of
Edgar Allen Poe's 1841 A Descent into the Maelstrom which opens in
medias res: 'We had now reached the summit of the loftiest crag.' Let
us focus on the verbally represented existents in this section of a fic-
tional world only and highlight the respective words accordingly:
(2) evokes the mental image of the highest point of an elevation (= 'sum-
mit')
(1) evokes the mental image of the highest point of an elevation (= 'sum-
mit')
79
About how the extension of this time-window could be defined, nothing can be said
at this point. In regard of the processing of literary texts, it is presumably defined
through fundamental cognitive-psychological parameters as well as through cultural
and aesthetic conventions. This question will be addressed in the following chapter.
210 Jan Christoph Meister
Until now, our exposition has dealt only with the case of an entirely
isochronous narrative in which the events have been portrayed in the
sequence of their natural occurrence in the narrated world, and which
the reader can reconstruct 1:1 by generating individual mental images
on the basis of the textual signs. However, in order to be able also to
represent cases of amsochronous reverse-order narratives in our model,
we have to take into account the Active temporal information contained
in the textual material, each piece of which belongs to a mental image.
Pieces of temporal information can 'belong' to an image in two funda-
mental ways: firstly, in the sense of a piece of information about the
latter's temporal position in the B-senes continuum of represented hap-
penings; secondly, in the sense of apiece of information about its posi-
tion in the B-senes continuum of perception. Within the text, it is only
the first type of information that can be realised, insofar as information
about chronological position in the continuum of perception presup-
poses that the perception (here: reading and conceiving of something)
has already been completed.- In order to grasp the temporal informa-
tion relative to its position in the Active continuum of happenings, we
will now introduce the notation index tf (= Active time-point or time
frame of occurrence). 'Image tfle3' should thus be read as: 'the third C-
senes existent successively realised as a mental image, which is located
on the B-senes at the Active point in time 1'. The following diagram
presents a case of two mental images, which are - measured against the
B-senes temporal relation of their contents - organised regressively.
As an illustration, let us re-use the re-phrasing of Poe's initial sentence
in the passive voice:
80
Narrated perceptions, for their part, are also events in the continuum of
happenings. Particularly difficult to model are preceding references: if, for example,
a frame narrator announces the presentation of an inner narrative. It is not the
ultimate temporal classification of what is (or is about to be) reported in the inner
story that presents a problem, but rather the fact that this announcement, outside the
fictive happemngs, also relates to the real perception happenings of reception.
212 Jan Christoph Meister
(1) We register that the earlier - later relation, constructed in the B-series,
between images 1 and 2 and image 3, stand in contradiction to a medi-
ated piece of temporal information within the image.
(2) The ongoing processing of new C-series conceptual units in the time-
window must therefore be temporarily suspended: if we simply kept on
processing C-series units and shifted our now-window further to the
right we will not be able to normalise the B-series any longer once our
capacity to memorise the B- versus A-series inversion has been ex-
hausted. To prevent this from happening,
(3) images 1 and 2 are summoned back out of memory and into the present
time-window in reversed order; thereafter
(4) the temporarily suspended processing of new C-series elements is re-
activated; the images 1 and 2 move to the left and out of the window,
and now take up their 'proper' positions to the right o/image 3 and thus
within a reconstructed B-series identical to the one presented in diagram
3.
switches back and forth between two modes of operation: simple de-
fault isochronous decoding and construction and higher-level meta-
construction.
tchroni(E),tchron2(E), tchronN(E)
In the statement 'first he slept, then he woke up', for example, these are
performed by the determinations 'first, then". These operators can al-
ways also effect a retrospective 'normalising' of the B-senes. In the
simplest case, this happens through the specification of an absolute
'earlierness' relation or through the selection of tense; in the most com-
plicated, through inference from valid causal relations:
Temporal deictica present a problem in this context, in that they are ac-
tually always already indexical expressions, marking a speaker's posi-
The Temporality Effect 215
7. Conclusion
We will now stop here with this increasingly abstract portrayal. The
design of a typology of temporal operators and the concrete assignment
of the diverse forms of time definition (e.g. the context-dependent or
relational operators such as 'at the time', such deictic operators in the
narrower sense as 'now', absolute time definitions such as '12 October
1916' etc.) remains a desideratum; it is clear that we would have to
take into account grammatical and text-linguistic categories. The com-
plex of the dynamic guidance of time-onented perception constructs
(e.g. analepsis, prolepsis, formally enforced 'leaps in time' through a
change in chapters etc) would, on the other hand, clearly have to be re-
216 Jan Chnstoph Master
81
McTaggart, McTaggart John Ellis (1927). 'The Unreality of Time,' in: The Nature
of Existence, vol. 2. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 29.
82
Le Poidevm 1988: 251 (cf. Fn 55); emphases in the original.
INDERJEET MAM
Nabokov,^
Introduction
Time passes. The evidence for its passage is incontrovertible, and yet
that fact does not make it any easier for us to grasp what our sense of
time is. Unlike space, time is not directly perceived, though we can
measure it in various ways. Despite our perceptual blindness with re-
gard to time, or perhaps because of it, our temporal cognitions are very
rich; they include our experience of events as they appear the present,
our memory of events in the past and our visions of them in the future,
as well as our regrets for and hallucinations of those events that did not
occur. To communicate these cognitions in a narrative, human lan-
guages provide a variety of systematic mechanisms such as tense, as-
pect, and types of time expressions; these mechanisms allow narrators
and characters to express, from their viewpoint, the position and tempo
of events in time, as well as to attempt to portray time itself. Finally,
human inventiveness allows for stimulating devices and clever circum-
locutions for narrating the ordering, distance, and tempo of events in
time.
As I have indicated, time does not appear alone in narrative; it is
wound up with events, and involves relationships that hinge on modal-
ity and point-of-view. Further, I have described a subjective notion of
time, where the position of an event in time is dynamic and changes re-
lative to the speaker; this notion will have to be reconciled with another
218 InderjeetMani
Time in AI
AI answers question (1) by constructing formal, mathematical models
that represent events and their relationships over time. These models
are used by artificial agents that write or interpret narratives.
Now, mathematical frameworks for reasoning about time have a
long history in the fields of philosophy and logic, and they have also
been exploited in computer science for practical tasks involving the
specification and verification of the behavior of concurrent systems,
i.e., where more than one computation is going on simultaneously3 The
AI models that I am going to focus on are drawn from these frame-
works, though they are adapted to the conceptualizations found in hu-
man languages. They are thus also relevant to question (2).
Unlike the purely mathematical abstraction of time as an infinite
succession of infinitesimal instants, natural languages conceptualize
time in terms of successions of events that each have a certain duration.
The AI models I consider therefore treat events as occupying finite in-
tervals of time; a character can have lunch at 3, or between 1 and 2, but
in either case the narrator is conceptualizing the event as taking time.
The axis of time itself can however be infinite if desired. Another key
aspect of natural language narratives is the subject-centered, or tensed,
view of time; an event can be spoken of at one time as being in the fu-
ture, and at another time as being in the past. In answering question (2),
these AI systems can interpret these tensed descriptions, locating the
event in time, where possible, irrespective of how it was conceptual-
ized linguistically.
2
Steegmuller, Francis (1991). 'Translator's Introduction to Madame Bovary, by
Gustave Flaubert'. New York: Random House/Quality Paperback Book Club.
3
Eminently practical examples of these tasks include the design of signaling rules on
railways, collision avoidance systems on aircrafts, safety measures in nuclear
reactors, and the checking and debugging of software and hardware.
The Flow of Time in Narrative 221
Let us turn first to answer (1). The framework used is called the
temporal interval algebra, or more commonly, the interval calculus.4
Let us assume that events are treated as time intervals. Pairs of events
A and B are ordered with respect to each other by means of seven rela-
tions, shown in Table 1.
I have simplified Allen's representation to ignore inverse relation-
ships (e.g., A AFTER B); his scheme has thus thirteen relations instead
of the seven shown here. All the relations can in fact be expressed in
terms of the relation MEETS; for example, A is BEFORE B if there ex-
ists an interval C such that A MEETS C and C MEETS B.
in time, using operators (quantifiers) that specify that for some (or all)
paths in time there exists a future or past state (or states) where the pro -
position P is true. In effect, it allows a computer to express what Steph-
en Albert tells his assassin Hsi P'eng, in Borges' The Garden of Fork-
ing Paths, 'Time is forever dividing itself toward innumerable futures
and in one of them I am your enemy.' That would be stated precisely as
ExistsPath[Future-State[enemy(sa, hp)]]. A CTL reasoner (called a
model-checker) can verify whether a given statement (expressed in this
formally precise way) is true, when furnished with a model of the
events along the time branches.
Computable Mappings
I will now address question (2), answering it in terms of the comput-
able mapping from natural language narrative to the temporal con-
straint network. The mapping in the inverse direction will also be dis-
cussed, albeit briefly.
Natural language relies on devices for expressing the positioning of
information in time, relative to the time of the utterance (the speech
time) and the time of the event or object being described. Language
captures the when in terms of time expressions ('three o'clock','three
days a year', 'tomorrow'), systems of tense (past, present, and future)
and aspect (namely whether an event is ongoing, completed, etc.), as
well as expressions of temporal relations ('before', 'during', 'at', etc.).
With the past tense, the event occurs prior to the speech time; for the
present, it occurs roughly at the speech time; and with the future tense
(which in Germanic languages involves modal notions), the event time
is later than the speech time. The way these components work and in-
teract can vary greatly across languages; for example, the Bantu lan-
guage ChiBemba has four past tenses and four future tenses, while
Mandarin Chinese uses aspect-indicating particles instead of tense
markers. In some languages, like Burmese, there is no tense, but
particles are used to indicate whether an event is real or hypothetical.
An AI reader has to be highly cognizant of these mechanisms in the
language in which the narrative is expressed.
In order to get from a narrative to a temporal constraint network,
modern AI algorithms make use of machine learning from examples.
Humans first annotate example narratives with features, indicating the
events and times and their temporal relations. The features pertain to
the verbs and other parts of speech indicating the events of interest, and
the various time expressions. The time expressions are resolved, so
that, for example, 'last March' and 'November' are anchored to calen-
224 InderjeetMani
dar years given the speech time when those expressions were uttered,
and 'seven years earlier' are anchored with respect to earlier mentioned
reference times. Then the events are linked to the times using at most
one of the seven temporal relations in Table 1.
As an example, consider the opening sentence of a Garcia Mar-
quez's One Hundred Years of Solitude:
Many years later, as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendia
was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to dis-
cover ice.
The time expression 'Many years later' would get marked as a period P
of a vague number X of years Y after a reference time RT, i.e.,
tl=RT+PXY. The event 'faced' would be tagged as FACE[+PAST], 're-
member' as REMEMBER[+INF+INTENSIONAL+STATIVE]
meaning that it is in infinitive form, that it is an intensional verb (what
is remembered is in the mind), and that it represents a state. The tem-
poral relations might include FACE being DURING tl, and its being
SIMULTANEOUS with REMEMBER, etc. These sorts of linguistic
features are recorded in a markup language called TimeML,7 which
happens to be an international ISO standard. Since humans also have
strong intuitions about how long particular events last (e.g., invasions
last longer than sneezes), it is also possible to add to the markup estim-
ates of the minimum and maximum bounds for events, as Pan et al.8
have done for TimeML (so as to cover 80% of the probable scenarios
given the text context). Humans tend to agree almost 90% of the time
on such bounds.
A visual display of the completed temporal constraint network for
the Garcia Marquez opening sentence is shown in Figure 1. The left
and right show the network before and after automatic completion, re-
spectively. Here, both events and times are treated as time intervals,
and are given subscripts indicative of narration order, whereas the or-
der of occurrence (the chronology) of the events is displayed left-to-
right.
7
Pustejovsky, J., Ingria, B., Sauri, R., Castano, J., Liftman, J., Gaizauskas, R., Seteer,
A., Kate, G., and Mani, I. (2005). 'The Specification Language TimeML,' in: Mani,
I., Pustejovsky, J., and Gaizauskas, R (eds.). The Language of Time: A Reader. New
York: Oxford UP, 549-562.
8
Pan, Feng, Mulkar, Ritu, and Hobbs, Jerry (2006). 'Learning Event Durations from
Event Descriptions,' in: Proceedings of the 44th Annual Meeting of the Association
for Computational Linguistics (COLING-ACL'2006), Sydney, Australia, 393^00.
The Flow of Time in Narrative 225
f i:ed(e1)
ttol<e3) rbmembei(e2)
dis::vei(e4)
any ye a is I at..
ced(e1)
membei(e2)
discove<e4)
The dark lines with arrows indicate BEFORE relations (the interval
at the arrow's tail being BEFORE the one at its head), while the ones
with circles and squares indicate DURING and SIMULTANEOUS rela-
tions, respectively, with the interval below being DURING (or SIMUL-
TANEOUS with) the one above. The light lines will be explained later.
As 'that distant afternoon' is earlier in time than the 'many years later',
the computer infers in the right-hand diagram that Aureliano's father's
taking him to discover ice (event e3) is before his facing of the firing
squad (event el).
For a more complicated example, consider that old narratological
chestnut from Proust's Jean Santeuil discussed by Genette:9
(Here the completion does not add any new links). It can be seen that
the passing is SIMULTANEOUS with the sometimes, the remembering
is DURING the passing, the bringing is DURING the rainy days, the
not loving is BEFORE the savoring, etc.
To provide for automatic timelining, humans have to label hundreds
of narratives with such information, creating a database of thousands of
examples of temporal relations. These training examples are grouped
into classes, one per temporal relation, and the machine learning pro-
gram then tries to learn rules to discriminate among the different
classes. This is done by learning which combination of features best
predict a given class, based on the frequency of the features and the
class in the data. Once trained, a new example that has not been annot-
ated will be automatically classified based on its similarity, in terms of
presence of features, to the patterns in the learned rules. Such a statist-
ical learning method allows the system to infer the times, events, and
temporal relations for any new narrative. The statistics however need to
be supplemented by rules from human intuitions, as the statistical fea-
tures will not pick up patterns that are relatively rare in the training
data.
9
Genette, Gerard (1980). Narrative Discourse. Ithaca: Cornell UP.
The Flow of Time in Narrative 227
Sometimes(t1)
[]
passing(el)
O
r imemberedf^)
[]
t|ring(e3)
remembered(e4}
them(t3)
[]
tlien(t4)
O
t{ioughi(e5)
some day(t5)
O
savor(e6)
lj>ved(e7^
best to use any given one of the seven orderings. AI authors like nn are
limited not only by the simple logic of their micro-worlds, but by the
story content at the level of the fabula having to be pre-specified in ad-
vance.
Assessment
These temporal constraint networks, more generally, are display-inde-
pendent mathematical objects called graph structures, which are used
to model relationships between entities; here the entities are events or
times, and the links between them are temporal relations. The networks
are flexible enough to represent temporal relations and distances (along
with bounds) in any narrative, irrespective of the order in which the
events are enumerated in the text. They can also represent branches and
cycles in time. However, they do reflect the static view associated with
the B-series, to which any A-series language is reduced.
Is such a temporal constraint network a suitable representation for a
narrative's temporal properties? The ordering offered in this represent-
ation captures Genette's sense of 'story' (or 'histoire'). Thus, analepses
will involve events with higher subscripts occurring earlier to the left
than those with lower numbers. However, the temporal relations being
considered in the time line are more expressive than merely precedence
and equality in 'histoire', since we allow for time intervals which are
related in seven different ways. It also distinguishes between story and
discourse, capturing the story time in the ordering of temporal relations
and partial calendar anchoring of events and times. The ordering of
events and times in the discourse is also evident. Discourse time itself
is not directly captured, though this is a matter of detail; the indices
(e3, etc.) might be easily extended to include a measure of offset into
the narrative. Once that is added, the story time of a narrative (the time
it occupies in the time line) can be compared to its discourse time, e.g.,
the number of words used to recount the event. The result of such com-
parison, which Genette classifies into isochronous, accelerated, and de-
celerated tempos, can be a valuable derivative product from the time
line. For a detailed treatment along these lines of temporal ordering,
tempo, and other time-related phenomena in fiction.12
As stated earlier, the adequacy of such a representation must be as-
sessed in terms of its ability to capture the varieties of temporal and
modal phenomena found in narrative, as well as, if desired, its
12
Mani, I. (2010). The Imagined Moment: Time, Narrative and Computation.
Lincoln: U of Nebraska P.
230 InderjeetMani
'then', but the simultaneity should perhaps instead hold between the
narrator's rainy days and the counterpart20 of the remembered days in
the narrator's world.
In applying possible world semantics to fiction, there has been some
narratological discussion of proposals such as the idea of Lewis21 of
treating any fictional proposition P as a counterfactual conditional, so
that the fictional proposition P by the narrator that Jean passed in front
of the hotel is true if and only if there is some possible world where (i)
both the facts in Jean Santeuil are true and P is true, and (ii) that is
closer to the actual world than every possible world where those facts
are true and P is false. Ryan22 has adopted an interesting variant of this
idea, where the possible worlds with the facts in Jean Santeuil being
true are 'actual' with respect to the text, i.e., such a possible world is a
textual actual world (TAW), namely the representation proposed by the
text.
However, a vague appeal to similarity between worlds offers little
help to a modal reasoner. While there has been encouraging progress in
theorem-proving using the modal theory of abstract objects (including
fictional ones) by Fitelson and Zalta,23 far more research is needed on
modal theories applied to fictional discourse.
Possible world analyses of fiction nevertheless provide a valuable
critical device even when shorn of the power of automatic AI computa-
tion. In the case of post-modernist fiction, as McHale points out,24 the
existence and structure of these worlds are emphasized by the author so
as to expose the artifice of their creation; and as Eco illustrates, pos-
sible worlds are crucial in illuminating one function that fiction ap-
pears to serve: 'Fiction suggests that perhaps our view of the actual
world is as imperfect as that of fictional characters'.25
Let us first consider the brain. Human brains have three different
systems to detect time, operating on different timescales. As a review
by Buhusi and Meek indicates,26 circadian rhythms are relatively pre-
cise and operate on a 24-hour cycle; they are involved in the regulation
of appetite and sleep. Interval timing is used in tasks such as decision-
making and multi-step arithmetic, and is less precise, but it is able to
operate in a broad seconds-to-minutes-to-hours range. Finally, milli-
second timing operates in the impressive sub-second range and used in
speech, playing music, and dancing. These three systems involve very
different brain areas. While the clock for millisecond timing is located
in the cerebellum, circadian rhythms originate from the hypothalamus
(which controls, based on the amount of light, the secretion of the tran-
quilizing hormone melatonin from the pineal gland). Interval timing is
not as localized and relies on the activation of a number of different
circuits spread across the brain. There is suggestive evidence that these
latter circuits are also involved in other processing such as the estima-
tion of quantity. All three of these systems are together involved in our
sense of time.
Consider next our ability to recognize events in the real world.
Thanks to evolution, our brains have very sensitive event detectors. An
event in the real world needs to last only three to four hundredths of a
second for it to be distinguished from another event, as shown in the
surveys by Poppel.27 The evidence comes in part from experiments by
Kanabus et al.28 where subjects have to judge the order of visual stimuli
(such as flashing green and red lights) or auditory ones (low and high
tones) and decide on whether they are before, simultaneous with, or
after one another.
To continue to perceive and act, the brain has to hold the percept it
has formed in memory, while querying the outside world as to what has
changed. This holding can only last for up to 3 seconds, after which the
brain updates the information. As Poppel (1994) indicates, when sub-
jects are made to hear computer-generated sequences of syllables such
as 'SO' and 'MA', they perceive either 'SOMA' or 'MASO', switching
to the alternative interpretation after 3 seconds. Turner and Poppel
26
Buhusi, Catalin V, and Meek, Warren H. (2005). "What makes us tick? Functional
and neural mechanisms in interval timing,' in: Nature Reviews Neuroscience, 6,
October 2005, 755-765.
27
Poppel, Ernst (1994). 'Temporal mechanisms in perception,' in: International
Review of Neurobiology 37, 185-202; Poppel, Ernst (1997). 'A hierarchical model
of temporal perception,' in: Trends in Cognitive Sciences 1.2: 56-61.
28
Kanabus, M., Szelag, E., and Poppel, E. (2002). 'Temporal order judgement for
auditory and visual stimuli,' in: Acta Neurobiol. Exp. 62: 263-270.
234 InderjeetMani
have speculated that the present lasts at most 3 seconds, and that this
bound corresponds to the average duration of what they call a 'line' of
verse across cultures and languages.29 As an example, Shakespeare's
opening line 'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?' (from Sonnet
XVIII) lasts a little over 3 seconds when recited at 'normal' speed.
Now, let us turn to higher-level cognitive function in terms of under-
standing time in narrative. Zwaan shows that readers expect that suc-
cessive sentences in a narrative will describe chronologically success-
ive and temporally adjacent events.30 Deviations from this narrative
format will result in delays in processing information. Zwaan found
that sentences with a time shift between events (for example, expressed
with the phrase 'an hour later') take longer to read, and result in sub-
jects taking a longer time to digest and answer questions about whether
a particular word occurred in the story, in comparison with similar sen-
tences lacking such a shift. Events separated by a time shift were less
strongly connected in long-term memory than those that were not sep-
arated by a narrative time shift. Also, when processing a narrative se-
quence of immediately successive events, readers took longer to access
events that, although mentioned recently, were temporally remote from
the current narrative 'now'. This temporal distance effect was absent
when the text had a time shift.
Narratives that focus on time itself can be particularly difficult to
process temporally. Alan Lightman's novel Einsteins Dreams explores
temporally exotic situations: in one chapter, time is circular, in another,
time can branch back to the past; time stands still in one, and in another
there is no time. Experiments by Graesser et al.31 show that subjects
found it hard to imagine the situations in Einstein s Dreams, faring
poorly in making inferences based on them.
These findings suggest that readers build cognitive models in their
minds of the situation described by the narrative. They represent
whether events are before or after each other, and how far apart they
29
Turner, Frederick, and Poppel, Ernst (1980). 'The neural lyre. Poetic meter, the
brain, and time,' in: Poetry, 277-309.
30
Zwaan, Rolf A. (1996). 'Processing narrative time shifts,' in: Journal of
Experimental Psychology: Learning, Memory, and Cognition 22: 1196-1207.
31
Graesser, Arthur C , Olde, Brent, and Klettke, Bianca (2003). 'How does the mind
construct and represent stories?' in: Narrative Impact: Social and Cognitive
Foundations. Mahwah: Lawrence Erlbaum; Graesser, Arthur C , Kassler, M.A.,
Kreuz, R.J., and McLain-Allen, B. (1998). 'Verification of Statements about Story
Worlds That Deviate from Normal Conceptions of Time: What Is True about
Einstein's Dreams?' in: Cognitive Psychology 35.3: 246-301.
The Flow of Time in Narrative 235
Conclusion
I have argued here that AI models are able to tell us what sorts of reas-
oning about time and events an intelligent agent can carry out, as well
as showing how natural language narratives can be mapped to these AI
representations. In doing so, I have tried to address the many insights
on time in narrative that narratologists have arrived at. I have also sum-
marized some relevant results from cognitive science that have a bear-
ing on how humans interpret time in narrative, suggesting how such
results may be further elaborated by psychological experiments based
on the AI representations.
These investigations are only a first step, I believe, in a much richer
examination of time in narrative, within the framework of an empirical
discipline of corpus narratology, where multimillion-word collections
of narrative texts are analyzed using sophisticated Al-based timelining
tools. Such an effort has the potential to alter the foundations of narrat-
ive theory.32 Even if we can ultimately never know time, or even say
what it is, the methodologies sketched here may allow us to engage
more deeply with the manners in which time is explored and often bril-
liantly exploited in literary narrative.
32
Mani: The Imagined Moment (cf. Fn 12).
Bibliography: A Guide to Further Reading
The following list, though far from exhaustive, offers a sample of the
most valuable and representative literature on time. Titles are arranged
by category.
Bibliographies
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acceleration XII, 191 duration 1X1, XIX, 4f, 38, 43f, 105,
achrony 111, 131,222,228 109, 115, 131ff, 159, 175, 186ff,
acttime 113-117, 131ff. 190,204,220,234
action time 105,144 durative 46, 48, 77, 79, 134, 154, 162f
Aufierungszeit 146 duree XIX, 109
Aktzeit 113f. ellipsis XII, 109, 120f, 132-136,
anachrony 111, 116, 118f., 126, 128, 154f.
131 emotional time 70
analepsis X, 118ff., 124, 138,215,228 empirical time XVIII
Aussparung 73f., 105 erzahlteZeit XVI, 86, 106, 114f, 143,
Betrachtzeit 144ff. 154, 159, 180
biological time 70 Erzahlzeit XVI, 86, 105f, 114f, 143,
branching time XVI, 61-65, 222 154, 159, 180
calendrical time 44, 47, 78, 148 event time 179,223
chronological order 33, 126f., 179 expansion of time 105, 109
chronological sequence VI, 47f, 116f., experience of time IX, 32, 36, 78, 89,
121 105, 113, 173, 180,196,202,204
chronological time 114,143 experienced time 22,73
chronology XIII, 106, 111, 116f., 128, expressed time 145f.
131, 179,219,224,228,235 external time 113f, 120, 139
circularity 109, 111, 118, 125f., 138 fact-time 143-170
clock time XVII, 43, 72, 78, 143, 149 fact-sequence-time 143-170
concept of time X, 30, 44f., 57, 183, fictional time 114, 139, 143
189, 197,201 flashback XII, XVIII, 109, 118, 121
contraction of time XVIf.,77 flash-forward XVIII, 118
consciousness of duration 190 foreshadowing 109, 122f
consciousness of time 13, 19f, 34, frequence XIX, 109
186ff Handlungszeit 105
construction of time 46, 89ff, 113 frequency XI, XIX, 77, 109f, 137, 226
course of time 89ff historical time 113f
Darstellungszeit 114 ideal time 105
Dauer 106 imagined time 91,184
discourse time XIX, 143, 145ff, 154, internal time 50,113,120,139
157, 159, 179, 181, 229f, 235 interval of time 213ff, 219ff
disunifiedtime XVI, 51f, 54ff, 59-64 iteration XII, XVIII, 18
doctrine of time 88 iterative 77, 79, 134, 139, 162f
254 Subject Index