Thursday, 6 June 2024

Teaching sentences, but what is a sentence? What's happened to 'the sentence'? Does it matter?

 When we think of written English in education, we instinctively think of sentences. It's what I was taught, my children have been taught, and is still taught. The sentence used to be defined as having a 'main clause' within which is a 'finite verb'. It begins with a capital letter and ends with a full stop.

It doesn't take much research to see that an enormous amount of writing is done that is not with these 'sentences'. Spend a little time looking at advertisements, headlines, film scripts, plays, poems, song lyrics, powerpoints, signs, slogans, proverbs and even in novels and newspaper articles written in standard English. Perhaps even more widespread is the field of social media where people chat to each other all day every day in a form of writing that has evolved and is evolving without instruction, direction or examinations. For much of the time, people are not bothered about 'main clauses' and 'finite verbs'. 

There's an argument for saying that the sentence in the modern world is still the means by which power is enacted. Powerful people pass laws, rule in courts, run companies, produce news reports, and science journals are written - in sentences. It follows, the argument says, that education should teach sentences in order that everyone has access to that power. This is true. 

The question arises though as to what we teach when we teach 'language'. Do we teach the sentence, or do we say that there are many varieties of written language (English in this case)? And though the sentence is the language of the powerful, the power is enacted through longer passages of writing - the paragraph, the page, the chapter, the article, the book etc? So we have to teach 'cohesion' and 'coherence', 'genre' and 'audience'. 

And more than that, do we say that there are hugely lucrative careers in the world of the non-sentence: song-writing, copy-writing for advertisements, writing film scripts and TV scripts and plays, lists and notes we write for ourselves or others,  producing punchy powerpoints and so on? There's even an argument for saying that writing quick, sharp, to-the-point social media has huge social value too.

I'll leave that hanging.

In the meantime, here are just a few examples of non-sentences and/or sentences that are not displayed or punctuated in the traditional way.

Train for a 

job you love

job you love

job you love

job you love

[Fashion Retail Academy ad]


What's 

in front

is all you


But the 

flag's

Always

On Side


[ad]


Whenyouneedtobeont

henextplaneoryouloset

hebusinessflights

[ad]


Sofa. Heaven.

Near Angel

(As you'd expect.)

[ad]


Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle,

The cow jumped over the moon.

The little dog laughed to see such sport

And the dish ran away with the spoon.

[The first line is interesting because it seems to be unattached grammatically.]


CAPULET

How, how, how, how? Chopped logic! What is this?155“Proud,” and “I thank you,” and “I thank you not,”And yet “not proud”? Mistress minion you,Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds,But fettle your fine joints ‘gainst Thursday nextTo go with Paris to Saint Peter’s Church,160Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.Out, you green sickness, carrion! Out, you baggage!You tallow face!
[Romeo and Juliet]

‘Fog’ from


Bleak House

by Charles Dickens

1853



Fog everywhere. Fog up the river, where it flows among green aits and meadows; fog down the river, where it rolls defiled among the tiers of shipping and the waterside pollutions of a great (and dirty) city. Fog on the Essex marshes, fog on the Kentish heights. Fog creeping into the cabooses of collier-brigs; fog lying out on the yards and hovering in the rigging of great ships; fog drooping on the gunwales of barges and small boats. Fog in the eyes and throats of ancient Greenwich pensioners, wheezing by the firesides of their wards; fog in the stem and bowl of the afternoon pipe of the wrathful skipper, down in his close cabin; fog cruelly pinching the toes and fingers of his shivering little 'prentice boy on deck. Chance people on the bridges peeping over the parapets into a nether sky of fog, with fog all round them, as if they were up in a balloon and hanging in the misty clouds.


Loyle Carner

Ain’t Nothing Changed


Check, I'm saying ain't nothing changed

Trust, 'cause ain't nothing changed

Saying, ain't nothing changed

Nah, 'cause ain't nothing changed

I'm saying ain't nothing changed

Uh, uh, I'm saying ain't nothing changed

Brother, 'cause ain't nothing changed

Saying, ain't nothing changed

Nah, 'cause ain't nothing changed

Trust, 'cause ain't nothing changed


Stream of consciousness


from Molly Bloom’s monologue last chapter Ulysses by James Joyce


let me see if I can doze off 1 2 3 4 5 what kind of flowers are those they invented like the stars the wallpaper in Lombard street was much nicer the apron he gave me was like that something only I only wore it twice better lower this lamp and try again so as I can get up early Ill go to Lambes there beside Findlaters and get them to send us some flowers to put about the place in case he brings him home tomorrow today I mean no no Fridays an unlucky day first I want to do the place up someway the dust grows in it I think while Im asleep then we can have music and cigarettes I can accompany him first I must clean the keys of the piano with milk whatll I wear shall I wear a white rose or those fairy cakes in Liptons I love the smell of a rich big shop at 7 1/2d a lb or the other ones with the cherries in them and the pinky sugar 11d a couple of lbs of those a nice plant for the middle of the table Id get that cheaper in wait wheres this I saw them not long ago I love flowers Id love to have the whole place swimming in roses God of heaven theres nothing like nature the wild mountains then the sea and the waves rushing then the beautiful country with the fields of oats and wheat and all kinds of things and all the fine cattle going about that would do your heart good to see rivers and lakes and flowers all sorts of shapes and smells and colours springing up even out of the ditches primroses and violets nature it is as for them saying theres no God I wouldnt give a snap of my two fingers for all their learning why dont they go and create something I often asked him atheists or whatever they call themselves go and wash the cobbles off themselves first then they go howling for the priest and they dying and why why because theyre afraid of hell on account of their bad conscience ah yes I know them well who was the first person in the universe before there was anybody that made it all who ah that they dont know neither do I so there you are they might as well try to stop the sun from rising tomorrow the sun shines for you he said 



Stream of consciousness plus ‘free indirect discourse’ 



from ‘To the Lighthouse’ Virginia Woolf


Nothing happened. Nothing! Nothing! as she leant her head against Mrs. Ramsay's knee. And yet, she knew knowledge and wisdom were stored up in Mrs. Ramsay's heart. How, then, she had asked herself, did one know one thing or another thing about people, sealed as they were? Only like a bee, drawn by some sweetness or sharpness in the air intangible to touch or taste, one haunted the dome-shaped hive, ranged the wastes of the air over the countries of the world alone, and then haunted the hives with their murmurs and their stirrings; the hives, which were people. Mrs. Ramsay rose. Lily rose. Mrs. Ramsay went. For days there hung about her, as after a dream some subtle change is felt in the person one has dreamt of, more vividly than anything she said, the sound of murmuring and, as she sat in the wicker arm-chair in the drawing-room window she wore, to Lily's eyes, an august shape; the shape of a dome.


Very recent popular novel. First person narrative by Joyce. 

(Note non standard sentences)


from ‘The Thursday Murder Club’ by Richard Osman (2020)

pages 18-19

Elizabeth and Penny would go through every file, line by line, study every photograph, read every witness statement, just looking for anything that had been missed. They didn’t like to think there were guilty people still happily going about their business. Sitting in their gardens, doing a sudoku, knowing they had got away with murder.

….

Ibrahim soon joined them.  He used to play bridge with Penny, and had helped them out once or twice with bits and bobs. He’s a psychiatrist. Or was a psychiatrist. Or still is, I’m not quite sure. When you first meet him you can’t see that at all, but once you get to know him it makes a sort of sense. I would never have therapy, because who wants to unravel all that knitting? Not worth the risk, thank you.


FILM SCRIPT

ALLIGATOR BLOOD 

Written by Brandon Saunders 

Final Draft 


FADE IN: EXT. FAMILY HOME - NIGHT 


A modest home in the outskirts of town. 


MAN 1, wears a PORCELAIN MASK and all WHITE CLOTHES, sprinkled with blood. He closes the trunk to a BLACK CAR parked in the drive-way. 


YOUNG BOY (O.S.) (muffled) No! Light 


THUMPS and CRIES come from inside the trunk. Man 1 makes his way inside -- 


INT. FAMILY HOME - LIVING ROOM - CONTINUOUS 


Cozy. Furniture screams good taste. Boxing gloves hang on the wall next to a BOXING TROPHY and numerous GOLD MEDALS. A NEWSPAPER on the kitchen bench headlines: "Boxing upset has Punters furious." 


Man 1 joins 3 MEN playing poker. He sits to the right of: DAD, 30, clean cut. Bruised and beaten. Tears slide down his face, as he stares daggers across the table to the man with majority of the chips: GAMBLING MAN, 45, sinister smirk. Wears a BLACK SUIT. In his right hand, he holds a King of hearts and Nine of diamonds. He squeezes a STRESS BALL with his left. To his right: DEALER, too, all WHITE CLOTHES and PORCELAIN MASK. 


GAMBLING MAN 


I told you to tighten his gag, not read him a fucking lullaby. Dad slams his cards face down. 


Stands abruptly.



Texting


Me:

I’ve got three cookies

Interviewer gave them to me. Home made

Shhhh don’t tell Joni

Shhhh


Joe:

Ho ho

En route


Me:

Am outside

On corner


Joe:

Traffic


Me:

Terrific


Joe:

Passing ally p Stn


Me:

Hooray

Rail strike

Still stuck?


Joe:

Slow


Me:

Slow stuck


Joe:

By the park

Heading for round

about







I have many other examples from texts, tweets, newspaper articles, poems, songs, film scripts and fiction but rather than put them up for the moment, perhaps this is an area that language students might be interested in researching. 

Saturday, 4 May 2024

A few quick tips for poetry performance

 Performance poetry tip for schools: think of your body being in a box. For some lines, the box is tall and thin, sometimes it's small and square, sometimes the box is huge. Your hands and legs (gestures and movements) reach the edges depending on what's right for the line or word


You can express the rhythm of a poem in any part of your body or in all of it. It could be just your eyebrows, or fingers or how you sway your whole body. Try to make the rhythm of the words help the rhythm of your body, as if the words can push or pull.

Remember that your voice is a musical instrument: it can go up and down, loud and soft, spikey (staccato), smooth and slide. It can make rhythms rather than tunes. In groups we can combine these, some doing rhythm, some bass, some melody. You can take a phrase from a poem (eg the chorus) and by repeating it quietly you have a rhythm and bass over which you can say a poem.

As one example (sorry it's me!): when I do 'Bear Hunt' (see YouTube) notice I do big, I do small, I do mouth-rhythms, I use my arms and body for rhythm, I do faces, I go fast, I go slow. One or some or any of these you can use for any part of the poems you perform.

Monday, 22 April 2024

Hal Syndrome - performative non-remembering


In the plays, Henry IV parts i and ii, Prince Hal hangs out with some low lifes, the most memorable of whom is Falstaff. This is in its own way, scandalous. Hal's father (Henry IV) is not happy about it. Then Henry IV dies, so Hal becomes king - Henry V. Falstaff thinks that the old relationship will continue but when he presents himself to Hal, Hal says, 'I know thee not old man.'
It's a fascinating moment of what we might call today 'performative non-remembering'. That's to say, for the knockabout, boozy Hal to transform himself into the calculating monarch, he has to show ('performative') that he doesn't 'know' Falstaff and that way of life. It's a form of censorship through staged silence.
So in amongst all the other syndromes, principles, effects, traits, tropes, 'razors' that people talk of these days I'm going to suggest Hal Syndrome. This is any event, story, occasion that grabs the news, preoccupies people, is apparently important but then when the situation changes, it's no longer news, it's not important. In other words there is 'performative non-remembering'.
I'm sure you can all think of examples from politics, culture, your own personal lives. It's happened to me in the last couple of weeks (that's to say the performative non-remembering), and so I needed a name for it.
I give you Hal Syndrome.
Like
Comment
Share

Saturday, 20 April 2024

My books for children that reflect Jewish history, Jewish folklore or my Jewish background

The Golem of Old Prague (first published by Andre Deutsch) then published by Five Leaves Books) illustrated first by Val Biro, then by Baruch ben Yitshak

The Missing, the true story of my family in World War Two (Walker books) 

On the Move, poems of migration, illustrated by Quentin Blake (Walker Books) 

Please Write Soon. an unforgettable story of what happened to two cousins in World War 2, illustrated by Michael Foreman (Scholastic) 

Barking for Bagels, illustrated by Tony Ross (Andersen Press)

The Disappearance of Emile Zola: Love, Literature and the Dreyfus Case (Faber)

One Day, a true story of survival in the Holocaust illustrated by Benjamin Phillips (Walker Books)


Books for children that include poems that talk about my Jewish background:

Out of this World, illusrated by Ed Vere (HarperCollins) to be published August 2024

Quick Let's Get Out of Here (illustrated by Quentin Blake) (Puffin) 

You Wait Till I'm Older Than You (Puffin) 

Jelly Boots, Smelly Boots, illustrated by David Tazzyman, (Bloomsbury) 

Michael Rosen's Big Book of Bad Things (Puffin) 


Video of my telling the story of what happened to my relatives in World War 2, based on the books 'The Missing' and 'On the Move'. 

Just copy and paste the link below into your browser: 

Teachers, why not use the video with the books? 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_iR_GiyIJ6k&t=19s