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Chapter 14. Oral Interpretation

The wealth of the knowledge of the world, of generations past and of our own generation, is recorded in literature. In the chapter "How Do We Read Aloud?" it was stated that the successful oral reader learns to convey the meaning of what he reads. Success, here, opens the treasure chests of this wealth of knowledge, which contain ideas and concepts much more valuable than money. The man, the country that can open these chests of wealth, has every chance to enjoy the spiritual and temporal riches that the world can bring.

1. By-Products of Successful Reading

In learning to convey the meaning of what we are reading, we develop certain by-products. Three such side-effects that come with learning to read aloud successfully are as follows:

Poise

The confidence and power that a reader gets from knowing that he can establish a mood in the audience increases his poise considerably. In order to convey the meaning of a selection, a reader must be able to influence his audience to make them think the way he wishes. That is true of all phases of speech, but the oral reader can concentrate more on creating audience reaction than can the public speaker or debater. Because his script is before him, he worries less about the next thought, and concentrates on proper delivery of each thought as it appears. He can also take the time to adjust and to get the audience in the proper frame of mind to receive each thought.

The reader learns how to make the audience experience a variety of emotions-how to make them laugh, how to make them sad, how to make them wistful. He begins to feel how the audience reacts. All these give him more command of the group.

Experienced readers have little stage fright. Just as the football player gains confidence from appearing before an audience, so does the reader gain a similar sense of being "audience-wise". He knows the noises and the "look" of an audience; he knows that, if handled properly, the audience can be easily influenced. He has no fear once he knows how to convey the meaning of a selection to an audience.

Appreciation of Literature

There are few good baseball players who would be willing to say, "I wish I had never learned to play baseball well. It means nothing to me." Instead, they feel their knowledge of baseball makes their lives much more worth living. They attend games, enroll their children in Little League baseball, and read the sports page with enthusiasm.

It is the same with literature as it is with baseball. Once you understand how to learn from the lessons of literature, you, too, will feel that your knowledge of literature makes your life much more worthwhile.

Some students shy away from literature. Robert Frost, speaking before a Congressional committee in 1960, said, "I meet businessmen who say to me, 'Oh yes, you're Robert Frost. My wife is an admirer of yours.'" All well and good, but what about you? Is it that some of you may be afraid to find out too much, that you would rather be ignorant so you do not have to accept the responsibilities of the world? We hope not. If you have any ideas along this line, if you think it would be better just to know how to fish, play football and swim, you must be reminded that it is later than you think. We must have an informed citizenry, and one of the best ways to become informed is to read the treasure maps of the past, the literature that tells us where the gold of the world is buried.

Much of this wealth is in poetry and drama. All poetry and most plays are meant to be read aloud. In fact, most poetry used to be sung, and the modern ballad is nothing more than a story put to verse, just as it was in medieval and early modern times. Much prose, particularly the modern "stream-of-consciousness" material, also responds more successfully to oral reading than to silent reading.

Unless you read this literature aloud, you miss half of its significance. It was meant to be heard, not seen.

The Bible is a good example. Hearing the Bible read well (not poorly, in a singsong, as is so often the case) is superior to reading the Bible silently to yourself. For example, Psalm 24 is much more effective if read aloud:

The earth is the Lord's, and the fullness thereof;
The world, and they that dwell therein.
For he hath founded it upon the seas,
And established it upon the floods.
Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord?
Or who shall stand in his holy place?
He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart;
Who hath not lifted up his soul unto vanity,
Nor sworn deceitfully.

Notice how the demanding quality of the questions can be increased if they are read aloud. Notice how the answers, "clean hands", "a pure heart", ring out when spoken. The particular quality of the language also stands out more effectively.

Improved Silent Reading

There is an old saying, "If you want to learn something, try teaching it to someone else." When you read a poem over to yourself, you can easily skip over some words and get only part of the meaning. But, if you are required to read the same poem intelligently to others, then you will find you have to learn it thoroughly. Once you have learned how to study a poem well, you become less and less satisfied with careless silent readings.

As an example, let us see what an oral reading of Robert Frost's "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" will do that a silent reading may fail to do.

Whose woods these are I think I know, His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here to watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer to stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and a frozen lake The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake to ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound's the sweep of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.

In the first place, anyone who reads this poem aloud is much more likely to "feel" the unusual rhyme pattern. Frost makes the first, second and fourth lines of each stanza rhyme. Then, he takes the third line of the first stanza and makes it rhyme with the first, second and fourth lines of the second stanza. So, "here", which ends the third line of the first stanza, rhymes with "queer", "near", and "year" of the second stanza. An awareness of this subtle formula for rhyme will allow the reader the privilege of knowing how complicated the simple may be.

Secondly, an oral reading will emphasize the simplicity of the vocabulary. There are no words over three syllables in length. The very quiet of the pastoral scene is not disturbed by ponderous words, whose long sounds might break the calm of the country scene.

Teaching this poem to others, by reading it aloud to them, will cause you to understand one representative poem by Frost. Then, when you read other Frost poems silently, you will follow their meaning easily because you can transfer your understanding of this poem to other poems by the same author.

We learn through doing. The inexperienced reader must concentrate more in oral reading than in silent reading. If this were not true, how could we explain man's talking out loud to himself? Oral reading also improves our silent reading, because it improves our ability to "hear" the meaning of a poem. Suppose we examine the first stanza of John Masefield's "Sea-Fever" to see how this principle works:

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky.

And all I ask is a tall ship, and a star to steer her by.

And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking.

And a grey mist on the sea's face and a grey dawn breaking.

Now, in order to read this poem properly, one would have to work hard on the pronunciation of such words as "lonely", "tall", "kick" and "shaking". The lonely must sound lonely; the "tall" must sound tall; the "kick" must have a good "k" on the end of it to sound like kick; and the "shaking" must have a good "sh" sound at the beginning and a good "k" in the middle to make it shake. All of this is intended to point up the way the wind hits and blows in gusts across the sea.

ORAL READING HELPS US TO "HEAR" THE MEANING OF THE WORDS

Once a reader begins to "hear" the meaning of words by sounding them aloud, he can simulate these same sounds when reading silently to himself. Many students fail to realize how much Masefield's poem sounds like the sea until they read the poem aloud.

Therefore, reading aloud helps silent reading in two ways:

1. Oral reading forces us to pay attention to the details of our selection, because we must "teach" the poem to others, and, to do so, we must understand it fully.
2. Oral reading helps us to "hear" the meaning of the words. This ability, to get out of a word what the author intended, carries over into our silent reading habits.

Now that we have reviewed the reasons why you should learn to read aloud, we are ready to pass on to the specific steps to follow in the learning procedure.

2. Choosing the Selection

In an earlier chapter, "How Do We Read Aloud?", certain specific comments were given to the beginning reader on how to choose the selection. These included (a) liking the selection, (b) thorough knowledge of the selection, and (c) certain criteria for making further eliminations; namely choosing a selection which is sufficiently new to the audience, suited to your personality, and of a length suited to the time available. All of these are important to you, but you are ready now to consider some broader principles-some philosophical concepts, if you will-which will serve you better in choosing your selections than did the "rules of thumb" in the earlier chapter.

There are six general categories of literature: three types of prose-THE SHORT STORY, THE NOVEL, and ESSAYS AND LETTERS; two types of poetry-THE NARRATIVE POEM and THE LYRIC POEM; and DRAMA, which may be either prose or poetry. Once you have chosen one of these six, you are faced with countless good and not-so-good selections. You may ask, "How do I know what is good and what is not-so-good?"

We will try to answer the question in two ways: first, we will set up certain broad principles which will help you decide what is good and what is not so good in a general way; then, we shall give lists of selections under each of the types of literature, to show specifically what we think would be a good choice. Note that the first type of explanation is deductive, depending upon the generality; and the second type is inductive, depending upon the example.

The Generalities of Choosing a Selection

Choose a selection which has enough depth so that you can read it a number of times without draining it.

If you get so that, with two or three readings, you know your selection completely, it is not a good enough selection for you to consider seriously. Oh, it may be all right for a passing fancy, but don't fool yourself into thinking that you have a tiger by the tail. You haven't.

For example, let us examine Iago's speech in Act III, Scene 3, of Othello by William Shakespeare.

Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,
Is the immediate jewel of their souls;
Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;
But he that filches from me my good name
Robs me of that which not enriches him
And makes me poor indeed.

The more you read this selection, the more you ponder its meaning. Does gossip do no benefit to the gossiper? Why is it that Shakespeare has the treacherous Iago utter such exemplary phrases? He does it also in Hamlet, when Polonius gives his advice to Laertes; "This above all: to thine own self be true," etc. Does the selection say that worldly goods are not to be acquired, that they are treacherous and unwilling servants, that they may cause you to lose your good name? Certainly, this selection is worth consideration. It reminds us time and time again to guard our characters carefully; to refrain from lying, cheating, stealing, gossiping-all of which make us poor indeed. Like all of Shakespeare's works, it is worth reading time and time again.

Choose a selection which offers a challenge.

When you choose a selection, choose one which is a little above you; a piece which may cause some stumbling on your part before you reach the top, but mastery of which will be rewarding. For example, Kipling's "Danny Deever" presents a challenge, both in dialect and in variety.

"What are the bugles blowin' for?" said Files-on-Parade.
"To turn you out, to turn you out," the Color-Sergeant said.
"What makes you look so white, so white?" said Files-on-Parade.
"I'm dreadin' what I've got to watch," the Color-Sergeant said.
"For they're hangin' Danny Deever, you can 'ear the Dead March play.
The regiment's in 'ollow square-they're hangin' him today;
They've taken all his buttons off an' cut his stripes away,
An' they're hangin' Danny Deever in the morn in'."

Winston Churchill's famous "Dunkirk Speech" of June 4, 1940, contains the challenge of descriptive prose at its best. In describing bow 335,000 men were evacuated from the embattled beaches of Dunkirk, Churchill said:

The enemy attacked on all sides with great strength and fierceness, and their main power, the power of their far more numerous Air Force, was thrown into the battle or else concentrated upon Dunkirk and the beaches. Pressing in upon the narrow exit, both from the east and from the west, the enemy began to fire with cannon upon the beaches by which alone the shipping could approach or depart. They sowed magnetic mines in the channels and seas; they sent repeated waves of hostile aircraft, sometimes more than a hundred strong in one formation, to cast their bombs upon the single pier that remained, and upon the sand dunes upon which the troops had their eyes for shelter. Their U-boats, one of which was sunk, and their motor launches took their toll of the vast traffic which now began. For four or five days an intense struggle reigned. All their armored divisions-or what was left of them -together with great masses of infantry and artillery, hurled themselves in vain upon the ever-narrowing, ever-contracting appendix within which the British and French Armies fought.

Can you re-create this battle, in all its realism, so that the students of the 1960's can realize the debt that we owe to the English and the French who died at Dunkirk? Here is a scene worth re-creating, difficult for you because you have not seen war and must overcome your natural inclination to say, "This is not a part of my life! Why should I go into all of that!"

A. E. Housman's poetry presents an unusual challenge to the reader. Every young man who faces the possibility of going to war will find a challenge in the lyric poem entitled, "Lancer":

I 'listed at home for a lancer,

Oh who would not sleep with the brave?

I 'listed at home for a lancer

To ride on a horse to my grave.

And over the seas we were bidden

A country to take and to keep; And far with the brave 1 have ridden,

And now with the brave I shall sleep.

For round me the men will be lying That learned me the way to behave.

And showed me my business of dying:

Oh who would not sleep with the brave?

They ask and there is not an answer; Says I, I will 'list for a lancer, Oh who would not sleep with the brave?

And I with the brave shall be sleeping

At ease on my mattress of loam, When back from their taking and keeping

The squadron is riding at home.

The wind with the plumes will be playing, The boys will stand watching them wave,

And eyeing my comrades and saying

Oh who would not sleep with the brave?

They ask and there is not an answer; Says you, 1 will 'list for a lancer, Oh who would not sleep with the brave?

There is much here that will require hard work for the interpreter. How shall he handle the refrain, "Oh who would not sleep with the brave?" It is repeated five times. Shall it be the same each time or shall it vary from time to time? Also, can you get your audience to grasp the story of a man who has gone overseas with his regiment, who could not resist the glamour of war, who knows he will be sleeping on his "mattress of loam" far away when the others are participating in the home-coming parade?

You may not wish to choose each selection solely because of its challenge, but each one should require you to reach up, to seek to know more, and to add another tool to your bag of knowledge.

When in doubt, choose a selection which has established prestige.

It is good to pioneer, to try out modern selections whose value is yet unknown. But, when your time and the time of your audience is limited, you should show preference for the literature which the passage of years has shown to be of value.

When you think of how many thousands upon thousands of compositions have been written since man began to learn to write, and how relatively few of them are still in existence, you begin to understand the selectivity of time. Some literature enjoys a temporary popularity. Like a popular song, it drops out of sight, only to show up very occasionally and then without its fonner luster. The reader who allows himself to be infatuated with the very latest styles in literature may find he has spent his time on only passing fancies and may have surrendered his opportunity to become acquainted with the literature that is of established value. The person whose time is limited had better spend it where he knows it will do the most good.

There are three "don'ts" which we would offer you:

DON'T . . . try to read aloud literature which is better read silently. Some literature is specifically constructed for silent reading and suffers from the one-stimulus approach that marks oral reading. Robert Frost maintains that you cannot "tell" the stones of Henry James, that they must be read-silently, that is. In general, these items are better read silently:

Scientific reports

Textbook materials

Editorials

News stories from the newspapers

Philosophical treatises

Histories (with notable exceptions, of course)

Public documents

DON'T . . . read overly-familiar material as if it were the first time it has ever been read.

If you choose to read Edgar Allan Foe's "Annabel Lee" or Alfred Noyes's "The Highwayman", remember that these have been done many times by persons more talented than you. Approach such selections cautiously and read them modestly, in an effort to remind the audience of the "image" of this selection which has already been established, rather than trying to replace this image with one which you create. No painter can do more than suggest the violence of the sea; any painter who tries to create the waves as they actually are is doomed to failure. No reader, likewise, can do more than .suggest Lincoln's Gettysburg Address; any reader who tries to re-create the picture, who tries to replace what we already feel about that selection with a new and better picture, is most likely doomed to failure.

Read overly familiar selections, therefore, with respect to both your selection and your audience. Do all you can to stay out of the picture. Let your words carry the audience back to its former feelings about the selection, feelings which, in many ways, the audience would rather you do not trample. Have you ever read a good novel, and then gone to see the motion picture based on that novel? More than likely, you were disappointed in the picture. It destroyed some of your images. The people didn't look right or talk right or do the right things. It's the same way with a selection. The motion picture medium is too literal, too detailed, to do much simply by suggestion. But you, as the reader, can suggest.

Here is a list of selections which, because of their familiarity to the audience, should be read modestly:

The Constitution of the United States

Edgar Allan Poe's "The Bells" and "The Raven"

Rudyard Kipling's "Girnga Din"

Vachel Lindsay's "The Congo"

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's "Paul Revere's Ride"

Alfred Lord Tennyson's "Crossing the Bar"

William Wordsworth's "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud"

The Twenty-Third Psalm from the Bible

Hamlet's soliloquy by Shakespeare, beginning with the lines, "To be or not to be" (Act III, Scene One) or Macbeth's soliloquy by Shakespeare, beginning with the lines, "Is this a dagger which I see before me" (Act II, Scene One)

William Ernest Henley's "Invictus"

Amy Lowell's "Patterns"

The indexes listed below will be useful in locating selections for oral interpretation.

Poetry

Granger's Index to Poetry and Recitations, 3rd ed. Ed. by H. H. Bessey.

Chicago, McClurg, 1940.

Indexes standard collections of poetry, recitations, dialogues, selections from drama, by title, author and first line. Granger's Index to Poetry and Recitations, 4th ed. Ed. by Raymond.

J. Dixon. New York, Columbia University Press, 1953.

Index divided into three parts: (1) title and first line index; (2) author index; (3) subject index. See also the supplement through 1955.

Short Stories

Short Story Index. Ed. by D. E. Cook and I. S. Munro. New York, H. W. Wilson, 1953.

An index to 60,000 stories in 4,320 collections, indexed by author, title, and in many cases, by subject, to stories published before 1950. See also the latest supplement. Short Story Index. Ed. by E. A. Fidell and E. V. Flory. New York, H. W. Wilson, 1960.

A supplement to the above.

Essays

Essay and General Literature Index. Ed. by M. E. Sears and M. Shaw. New York, H. W. Wilson, 1934.

Lists essays and miscellaneous articles by author, subject and sometimes title. See also supplements.

Speeches

Speech Index. Ed. by Roberta Briggs Sutton. New York, H. W. Wilson, 1935. An index to sixty-four collections of speeches. A dictionary catalogue with entries for each oration under author, subject and type of speech.

Speech Index. Ed. by Roberta Briggs Sutton. New York, Scarecrow Press, 1956. Supplement to above, the same indexing.

Drama

Index to Plays. Ed. by Ina Ten Eyck Firkins. New York, H. W. Wilson, 1927.

Indexes available editions of plays by 19th and 20th century authors. The author index gives complete bibliographical information for each play and indicates type. There is also a combined title and subject index. See also the latest supplements.

Play Index: 1949-1952. Ed. by D. H. West and D. M. Peake. New York, H. W. Wilson, 1953.

Combined author, title and subject index. An Index to One-Act Plays. Ed. by H. Logasa and W. Ver Nooy.

Boston, Faxon, 1924.

Plays listed by title, with an author list and a subject index. See also the latest supplements. Index to Plays in Collections. Ed. by J. H. Ottemiller. New York, The Scarecrow Press, 1957. For other indexes available see: C. M. Winchell, Guide to Reference Books.

Dramatic Selection

In the following red-blooded narrative poem, The Highwayman, the popular British poet, Alfred Noyes, has recreated the past. This poem is a popular favorite in speech classes everywhere. In presenting this poem, you should try to stress the emotional appeal. You should make your audience thrill with this tale of the self-sacrificing love of Bess, the landlord's daughter, as she awaits her lover-and warns him by her death. Our dislike of the highwayman's profession should not prevent us from experiencing a throb of pity as we see this lawbreaker fall dead upon returning to avenge the death of his sweetheart.

"The Highwayman" by Alfred Noyes

PART ONE

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees, The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas, The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor, And the highwayman came riding-Riding-riding- The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,

A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doeskin; They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh! And he rode with a jeweled twinkle,

His pistol butts a-twinkle, His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jeweled sky.

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard, And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred; He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,

Bess, the landlord's daughter, Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable wicket creaked Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked; His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay, But he loved the landlord's daughter, The landlord's red-lipped daughter, Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say-

"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize tonight, But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;

Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day, Then look for me by moonlight, Watch for me by moonlight, I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."

He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand, But she loosened her hair in the casement! His face burnt like a brand

As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast; And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,

(Oh, sweet black waves in the moonlight!) Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the West.

PART TWO

He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon; And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon, When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor, A red-coat troop came marching-

Marching-marching-King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.

They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead, But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;

Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side! There was death at every window;

And hell at one dark window;

For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.

They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest; They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast! "Now keep good watch!" and they kissed her.

She heard the dead man say- Look for me by moonlight;

Watch for me by moonlight; I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!

She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good! She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!

They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years, Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,

Cold, on the stroke of midnight, The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest! Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast, She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again; For the road lay bare in the moonlight;

Blank and bare in the moonlight;

And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain.

Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs ringing clear;

Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did not hear?

Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,

The highwayman came riding.

Riding, riding!

The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up, straight and still!

Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night! Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light! Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath, Then her finger moved in the moonlight,

Her musket shattered the moonlight, Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him-

With her death.

He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!

Not till the dawn he heard it, and slowly blanched to hear How Bess, the landlord's daughter,

The landlord's black-eyed daughter, Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

Back he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky, With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!

Blood-red were his spurs in the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,

When they shot him down on the highway,

Down like a dog on the highway, And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.

And still of a winter s night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,

When the moon is a ghastly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas, When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor, A highwayman comes riding-Riding-riding- A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard; He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;

He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there But the landlords black-eyed daughter,

Bess, the landlord's daughter, Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

3. Understanding the Selection

When the beautiful Queen of France, Marie Antoinette, was on trial for her life before the Revolutionary Tribunal, she was asked if she had anything more to say in her own defense. The queen pleaded lack of time to prepare herself, saying, "Yesterday I did not know who the witnesses were to be; I did not know what evidence they were going to give." If we may compare her position to that of the oral reader, she knew her purpose on that fatal October 16, 1793-it was to save her life; she knew the selection-it was her final appeal to the bloodthirsty emergency tribunal. But she pleaded that she had not had time to properly analyze the situation. Nevertheless, Fouquier-Tinville, the prosecutor, demanded the death sentence and it was carried out on the Place de la Revolution (now the Place de la Concorde) on that very day.

Now that you know why you are learning to interpret literature orally and what specific piece of literature you are going to interpret, you must examine "the witnesses" and "the evidence" carefully, in order to present your selection with authority and confidence.

In our earlier chapter on "How Do We Read Aloud?" we gave some introductory comments on how to analyze your selection properly. These should be reviewed before you pass on to the more detailed comments below.

Grasping the Author's Meaning

It may be difficult to grasp what the author had in mind. Some literary critics propose that even an author may not understand fully all that he himself has written. In other words, the author is not always aware of all of his powers. He may produce a piece of literature which says more to others than he thought it said.

In a recent lecture, Robert Frost made fun of the critics and, in particular, of his friend John Ciardi, for finding hidden meanings in his poem, "Dust of Snow":

The way a crow Shook down on me The dust of snow From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart A change of mood And saved some part Of a day I had rued.

Frost held that his purpose was simple. He had been standing beside a hemlock tree (it might have been a pine or a cedar or a fir, for that matter), when a crow (it might have been a redbird or a sparrow or any other winter bird) shook down some snow on him. Just the way it was done changed his attitude and made him feel better, on a day when he was worrying about some other matter. The critics, on the other hand, found significance in the fact that a crow (being black and representing tragedy), in a hemlock tree (associated with death from the time of Socrates), had changed Frost's mood, saying that the purpose of the poem was to show that death could be accepted more lightly. Who was right? That is where you must make up your own mind, but only after you have studied both what Frost and what other people have said. To do this you must know somewhat other people have said.

The following should be your minimum requirements for grasping the author's meaning:

1. Read a good biography of the author.
2. Read at last three other selections by the same author.
3. Read what two critics have said about the author.
4. Write a summary sentence (just one sentence) of what you think the author intended for us to learn from the selection.

Plotting the Selection

Even though you may understand the central meaning of a selection, you may miss the significance of the details which substantiate this central theme, unless you take the time to figure out, step-by-step, how the author reached his conclusion.

The State of Texas has considerable folklore. The story is told of the Texan who was visiting an active volcano in the Hawaiian Islands. Fire was spurting from the mouth of the volcano and huge rocks were being thrown up into the air. "I'll bet you don't have anything like that in Texas," a native Hawaiian said. "No," drawled the Texan, "but we've got a fire department in Houston that could put the darn thing out!"

This is the popular conception of the Lone Star State. But not all that happens to the cowboy and the rancher is so easily seen. What does this poem mean?

"Cerelle" by Margaret Bell Houston

There was a score of likely girls Around the prairie side, But I went down to Galveston And brought me home a bride.

A score or more of handsome girls, Of proper age and size, But the pale girls of Galveston Have sea-shine in their eyes.

As pale as any orange flower, Cerelle. The gold-white sands Were like her hair, and drifting shells, White fairy shells, her hands.

I think she liked my silver spurs A-clinking in the sun. She'd never seen a cowboy till I rode to Galveston.

She'd never known the chaparral Nor smell of saddle leather, Nor seen a round-up or a ranch, Till we rode back-together.

Shall I forget my mother's eyes? "Is this the wife you need? Is this the way you bring me rest From forty men to feed?"

Cerelle-I think she did her best All year. She'd lots to learn. Dishes would slip from out her hands And break, the bread would burn.

And she would steal away at times And wander off to me, And when the wind was in the south She'd say, "I smell the sea!"

She changed. The white and gold grew dull, As when a soft flame dies, And yet she kept until the last The sea-shine in her eyes.

* * * * *

There are (I make a husband's boast) No stronger arms than Ann's. She has a quip for all the boys, And sings among the pans.

At last my mother takes her rest, And that's how things should be. But when the wind is in the south, There is no rest for me.

We may summarize its purpose with this sentence: A man who has once known love but marries for practical reasons may pay for his decision.

How does Miss Houston amplify this theme by the action in her poem? A paraphrase of the plot follows:

The owner of a ranch in northern Texas did not marry a girl from his region who understood the hard-working life of the area, but instead went to the seaport town of Galveston and married a beautiful, delicate city girl, named Cerelle. The rancher's mother, seeing that Cerelle was not strong enough to work very hard, strongly disapproved of his choice. Cerelle, under the burden of the hard work of the ranch, which she undertook conscientiously, sickened within a year and died. Then the rancher married a girl from his own region, Ann, who knew the ways of the ranch and could work hard enough to give the rancher's mother a rest. BUT, the rancher still loved Cerelle and when reminded of her by the south wind, his heart ached.

There are several items in this paraphrase which might be disputed. Read again carefully the poem, "Cerelle", and be prepared to discuss in class the following points:

Did Cerelle really die or did she simply tire of the ranch and go back to Galveston?

Does the rancher love his second wife, Ann, or did he marry her only to please his mother and get help to run the ranch? Does the rancher still love Cerelle, or does the south wind merely remind him of an episode in his life of which he is not proud?

There are two main questions about this selection which you must ask: Where is the climax, and how does the author build to this climax and then retreat from it?

The climax occurs with Cerelle's death (or departure). Notice that the author takes nine stanzas to build up to this climax, and only two to retreat from it. Anyone who reads this poem must be aware that everything leads up to the climax. He should use all of the delivery techniques (suggested in the next section) to "build" to the lines, "She changed. The white and gold grew dull."

The oral interpreter should realize that once this conclusion has been reached, once he has chugged up to the top of the roller-coaster, the remainder of the poem goes quickly to a finish. The moral ("There is no rest for me") falls at the very end.

IN READING A POEM, THE INTERPRETER MUST REALIZE THAT THE PRESENTATION IS LIKE A ROLLER-COASTER BUILDING UP TO A CLIMAX AND THEN DROPPING QUICKLY TO THE FINISH.

Labeling the Moods in the Plot

Once you have a map of how the selection progresses from point to point, you will need to be more specific about the moods of each point. The moods of the narrator change abruptly. Let's review them.

MOOD KEY LINE
happy, proud "There was a score of likely girls"
thoughtful, reflective "But the pale girls of Galveston"
gentle and loving "As pale as any orange flower,
Cerelle."
shyly boastful "I think she liked my silver spurs"
quietly bitter "Shall I forget my mother's eyes?"
thoughtful, reflective "Cerelle-I think she did her best all
year."
wistful, despondent "She changed."
boastful "There are (I make a husband's boast)
thoughtful, reflective "But when the wind is in the south"

The complicated structure of the poem is illustrated by the fact that there are eight changes of mood in only nine stanzas. The reader must be willing to register these changes of mood. However, he cannot do so unless he realizes that they are there.

There is some debate as to whether a student can really understand a mood unless he has experienced it. In other words, how could any one of you understand how a Texas rancher would feel toward his second wife? Some would say, "No high school student has the knowledge to read 'Cerelle'."

We would disagree. Each of us has had some experience in our past which gives us a beginning when we recall it. It may have been a friendship with someone who moved away, or a trip we made to a strange city, or a disagreement with our parents. It is up to us to take these similar experiences (even though they may be less intense) and transfer our feelings from the matters we know to the realm of the matters we do not know. If this could not be done, how could any man play Hamlet, unless he had committed murder and had seen a ghost?

Be responsive to the moods in the selection. Be able to label the atmosphere you are supposed to create. Then, in the next section, you will find suggestions that will help you create this mood in your audience.

Understanding the Vocabulary

Your analysis is now approaching its finest point. You began with the broad concept of establishing the over-all purpose of the author. Then you became more specific by summarizing the way in which this purpose was achieved. Third, you searched the paraphrase to see what emotions it involved, so you would know how to convey these emotions to your audience. Now you are ready to look at the specific words and phrases of the selection, to see how they support the moods that you wish to create.

We will assume that the average high school student reading "Cerelle" would look up the meanings of the following:

a. Galveston a city in southeast Texas, on Galveston Island

b. chaparral a thicket of stiff or thorny shrubs

c. quip a jest or smart, sarcastic remark

It is not enough that you have a vague idea of what "quip" means. If you are to convey a meaning to an audience, you must have a clear-cut concept of what each word and phrase in your selection means.

Although you may have a literal understanding of each word in your selection, some of them may be used in a figurative way so that their meanings are more complex than customary. It is wise to go through the selection, to see what particular pictures the author is trying to paint with his words. Let us look at some of the images in "Cerelle".

PHRASE	FIGURATIVE MEANING	TYPE OF FIGURE OF SPEECH
sea-shine in their eyes	a sparkle of tantalizing allurement	metaphor
gold-white sands were like her hair	hair had the glint of white sand on a bright, sunny day	simile
a soft flame dies	perhaps the gradual burning down of the candle	simile

You will need to get a clear concept of eyes with sea-shine in them. Notice the hair of the women you meet until you find one whose hair has the gold-white sand look. Observe flames as they flicker out, and reflect on how a person could respond as the flame does.

"SHE'D NEVER KNOWN THE CHAPARRAL, NOR SEEN A ROUND-UP OR A RANCH."

The oral interpreter needs to analyze the words. At the same time, he needs to be a creator of images. He is a scientist and an artist combined. He pulls the selection carefully apart to see what makes it tick, but he must be observant enough to know that it does not tick in parts but as a whole. So the separated parts must go back together to make the whole, to convey the mood, which in turn conveys the plot, which in turn illuminates the author's message.

4. Delivering the Selection

Assuming yon understand WHY you should learn to read aloud, and know HOW to choose a selection, and see WHAT ought to be done to analyze the selection before you try to read it, there is still one big question: HOW do you read the selection? The philosophy of reading and the psychology of reading are all very well, but one is still concerned with what to do when he actually does the reading.

If you have the first three steps of oral interpretation correct, your delivery problems will be greatly minimized. If you begin with trying to master the delivery of a selection without understanding, first, why you are reading; .second, what you ought to read (you may have chosen the wrong thing altogether); and third, how you can gain a proper understanding of the chosen selection, you are definitely off on the wrong foot. You are treating the symptoms and not the disease. You can do endless work on technique, only to find the groundwork has never been perfected.

The Voice in Oral Reading

A man is not only known by the company he keeps; he is also judged by the voice with which he speaks. More than his clothes or his manners, his voice designates his personality. Do not forget this! Yom- voice is a powerful machine working within you. If the machine puts out a good quality product, smooth and confident, you respond in a like manner; if gears in the machine have never been properly broken in, and the machinery creaks and groans, you creak and groan along with it. Oral reading will help you put this machine in tune. Have you ever noticed how high-strung, nervous people have high-strung, nervous voices? Which came first, the nerves or the nervous voice? Certainly, one aided and abetted the other.

Just as the quality of a record player limits the effectiveness of the music from the record, so do the dimensions of the reader's voice limit the effectiveness of the selection he is reading. We must work hard to improve four things:

Volume Control Quality Control

Pitch Control Tempo Control

However, certain words of caution are in order.

The voice must be natural. There is nothing worse than the over-mellow or over-precise voice. Can you imagine Abraham Lincoln reading The Gettysburg Address in "pearly tones", with every consonant sounded precisely? Avoid this trap. A good voice should call attention to the selection and not to the reader.

Your voice must retain its individuality. Local accent, provided it is not extreme and does not interfere with understanding, should be considered more of a strength than a weakness. We should sound like somebody, not like just anybody. The TV program, Dragnet, illustrated how a relatively obscure program could soar to fame because the people on it sounded like people and not like actors who had learned their lines too well. Soon, all of the other "crime-doesn't pay" serials began to imitate the style of Dragnet. Katharine Hepburn, Red Barber, Lauren Bacall, Billy Graham, Don McNeill, John F. Kennedy, George Burns, Shelley Berman, and many others are examples of proper individuality in voice.

5. The Four Properties of Voice

Volume

In these days of the microphone, the ability to speak with sufficient volume is fast becoming a lost art. The interpreter needs to be close to his audience. He must have a voice that can convey the fine meanings of his selection. (A microphone often acts as a barrier between the reader and the audience, reducing the contact to only that which a mechanical device can relay). There is a difference between speaking loudly and shouting. The amount of volume you have depends upon how well you use your three main resonators (or amplifiers): the nose, the mouth, and the larynx. When the sound comes out of the vocal chords, it is very weak and must be built up. We all have the boosters to raise the volume of the vocal chord sound, provided we know how to use these resonators or amplifiers.

Increased volume in speaking comes only with practice. This is true of any muscular exercise. The swimming team does not expect to win unless it practices long hours. You should not expect to be able to read with good volume to large groups unless you have worked at the process At first, your voice will tire. But, with practice, it will gain strength and assist you in becoming a much more forceful person.

Open your mouth widely enough so the sound can get out.

Do not let the sound get "bottled up" in the mouth itself. Many of the stars of the TV Westerns speak "through their teeth" and could not be heard distinctly five feet away were it not for mechanical help. Unless your mouth is sufficiently open to let the sounds come out, you cannot hope to get the volume you need.

Do not rely upon the nasal resonator too heavily.

Many people, in an effort to get resonance, rely too much upon the nasal resonator. As a result, they get a pinched, unpleasant twang in their speech. Although the nasal chamber may be used for some resonance, its power should be subservient to the strengths generated in the mouth and larynx.

If you wish to know whether or not your speech is too nasal, say the following sentence two ways. First, say it holding your nostrils closed; second, say it with the nostrils open. If there is a decided difference in the way the two sentences sound, your nasality is probably too great.

THIS IS THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT.

Note that this sentence has no "m" or "n" or "ng" sounds in it, which require that the mouth be closed and the nostrils open.

Make an effort to speak forcefully.

If you do not try to speak out, you cannot learn how. Some girls think that a wee, small voice is more attractive to the boys. This may be temporarily true, but what is attractive at a dance may not command respect at home. Some girls insist upon keeping their child-like voices for so long that they lose their ability to change them, unless specific voice training is undertaken. What is attractive at sixteen may become boring at twenty-six.

Some boys also think it sophisticated or "regular" to mumble. They can shout, but they cannot speak out distinctly. Like all bad habits, this one is dangerous, because the speech patterns developed become so ingrained that they cannot be overcome without much work. Again, what makes you a regular fellow at sixteen may make you less than ordinary at twenty-six. Just as there is something to be proud of in winning the hundred-yard dash or learning the jackknife dive, there is something to be proud of in learning to fill a room or an auditorium with your voice so that you command attention and make other people listen to you. Sufficient volume is one of the prerequisites of an effective voice.

Quality Control

The interpreter must know how to lower his volume so that he can get contrast without reducing his audibility. Many actors and actresses can whisper so that they can be heard in the last row of the balcony of a large theatre. The trouble with most beginning readers is that they actually let their voices get soft instead of faking the softness. Remember that when you cut down the volume of your speech, you must increase the intensity of the articulation. Each sound must ring out. Final consonants must be clear.

There is nothing more effective than soft speech, provided it is clear and energetic. You do not have to speak loudly all of the time to get what you want. The contrast possible with a soft voice is often the very thing that will provide the effect you are after.

Many young readers, as well as some television announcers, have not learned how to be quietly forceful. The exercises in this book should help you develop your ability to be as effective when you speak quietly as when you speak more forcefully.

Pitch

The voices of most high school students are undergoing a change of pitch. The girls' voices have deepened slightly, while the boys' pitches have either sunk or are now sinking much lower. May we offer you some advice?

To the girls: Some of you may try to keep your "little-girl" voices rather than responding to the deeper pitch you should acquire with adolescence. You find the old, high pitch the one you are most used to, and you follow the natural course of resisting change. Try to avoid holding on to what you used to sound like and do develop the deeper, richer tones of the young lady. The lower pitch should cause your voice to sound pleasanter and more resonant. We would even go so far as to say that its lower tones will make you more confident and give you renewed strength and courage.

To the boys: Some of you may not be satisfied with how fast your voices are deepening and will try to force them lower than they should be. Others may find the uncertainty of the new pitch uncomfortable and try to stay on the "boy soprano" level. Either of these reactions is to be avoided. The best thing for you to do is to let your voice drop naturally. Do not resist the change, but do not try to increase it. Be in sympathy with it.

The oral reader needs to have a variety of pitches. If his basic pitch is either too high or too low, this variety will not be present. We tend to vary from our average pitch level proportionately, going only as far up as we go down, or only as far down as we go up. If your basic pitch is close to either your high or low limit, you will be unable to vary much toward that limit. The obvious conclusion is that a person whose voice is too low or too high has every likelihood of developing a monotone pitch level.

Lower pitch is probably more pleasant than higher pitch. A student who has a monotone pitch may find that his pitch level is either too high or too low to let him develop the proper pitch variety. Do not resist pitch change. If your voice is in the process of adjusting, move with it and not against it.

Tempo

The voice that is too soft, or too slow, or too medium, or too constantly anything, is unattractive in oral reading. Just as the reader requires a variety in pitch, he also needs variety in speed. He should be able to make his voice go quickly and briskly to respond to situations of excitement, humor, and action; and, again, he should be able to read slowly and resonantly to interpret situations of gravity, sorrow and contemplation.

Can you read very slowly and also very quickly? Try this passage both ways to test yourself:

In fourteen hundred and ninety-two, somebody sailed the ocean blue. Somebody borrowed the fare in Spain for a business trip on the bounding main. And to prove to people, by actual test, you could get to the East by traveling West, somebody said, "Sail on! Sail on!" And studied China and China's lingo and cried from the bow, "There's China now," and promptly bumped into San Domingo.*

When you read it quickly, all of the sounds must still come out. When you read it slowly, it should still be smooth, and not jerky. There is not very much you can do to slow down most consonants, but the vowels can be stretched considerably. For example, "Iiiinn fohhrteeeen huuuuundrehhd aaand nyyynteee-twooooo ..."

The selections below are arranged to help you with your timing:

CAPITALIZED parts are to be read fast.
Small lettered parts are to be read slowly.
Periods (...) stand for pauses.

Under a tree they sat ....

HE HELD HER HAND ... SHE HELD HIS HAT ...

THEY KISSED. I saw them do it.

HE HELD THAT KISSING WAS NO CRIME SHE HELD

HER LIPS UP EVERY TIME I HELD MY BREATH AND

WROTE THIS RHYME ...

They never knew it.

Josephine Dickerson

I must go down to the seas again to the lonely sea and the sky.

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by.

AND THE WHEEL'S KICK AND THE WIND'S SONG

AND THE WHITE SAIL'S SHAKING And a

grey mist on the sea's face and ..... a ..... grey dawn .............. breaking.

John Masefield

* Ogden Nash, "Look What You Did, Christopher!" from The Face Is Familiar.

LITTLE ORPHANT ANNIE'S come to our house to stay,

AN' WASH THE CUPS AND SAUCERS UP an' brush the crumbs away,

AN' SHOO THE CHICKENS OFF THE PORCH, AN' DUST THE HEARTH, AN' SWEEP, AN' MAKE THE FIRE,

AN' BAKE THE BREAD

An' earn her board-an'-keep

An' all us other children when the supper things is done

WE SET AROUND THE KITCHEN FIRE AN' HAS THE MOSTEST FUN A LISTNIN TO THE WITCH TALES

. 'at Annie tells about ...

ANTHEGOBBLE-UNS' ATGITSYOU

If you Don't Watch Out!

James Whitcomb Riley

Speed is also concerned with rhythm. There are several points concerning rhythm that need our attention.

First, too regular a rhythm becomes tiresome.

Second, it will help to keep attention if the rhythm breaks where the audience is not expecting it.

Third, change the rhythm from verse to verse.

The rhythm in the poems below is a prominent part of their strength. Note how the three factors listed above are provided for in the variations for reading the poems.

Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay that was built in such a logical way it ran a hundred years to a day and then of a sudden, it ... ah, but stay ...

I'll tell you what happened without delay scaring the parson into fits, frightening people out of their wits ...

Have you ever heard of that, I say?

Oliver Wendell Holmes

Observe that there are no pauses in the Deacons Masterpiece until the words, "ah, but stay . . ." This abrupt interruption, after such a long passage, gives the audience a jolt and emphasizes the "ah, but stay" phrase. The pause after "Have you ever heard" is also unexpected and emphasizes "of that" more than would be the case if the reader had not stopped without warning after "heard".

In reading Edgar Allan Poe's "Annabel Lee":

It was many and many a year ago in a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know ...

by the name of Annabel Lee.

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

than to love ...

and be loved ...

by me.

I was a child and she was a child in this kingdom .....

by the sea

But we loved with a love that was more than love ...

I ...

and my Annabel Lee;

With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven coveted. Her ... and me.

First, the regular rhythm of the poem is interrupted in the second stanza of Annabel Lee by purposely stressing the syllables of the rhyme pattern.

Second, the rhyme pattern is unexpectedly broken in the first stanza after the words "than to love," and in the second stanza after the words "in this kingdom."

Third, the pattern of stanza one of Annabel Lee is purposely different from the pattern of the second stanza.

Note that the audience is not expecting a pause after "And this maiden she lived with no other thought than to love." The surprising break here makes the next short line "and be loved" more significant, and has the additional advantage that the regular, swinging rhythm of the poem is temporarily interrupted.

So, the ability to read well at varying speeds and the ability to mix these different tempos are two factors of considerable importance to the interpreter of literature.

Quality

In a way, quality is the "X-Factor" of speech. It is the residue of sound that cannot be attributed to volume, pitch or tempo. It is the property of voice that gives it individuality and that distinguishes one voice from another. Many of you do not realize that it is on the basis of vocal quality that you are evaluated. You are all very careful about your appearances; you should be equally careful about your voices.

The oral reader needs a quality which enhances the selections he is reading rather than detracts from them. The best way to find out how much improvement you must make is to listen to your voice on a good tape recorder. You will probably say, "That doesn't sound like me at all." What you mean is, "That doesn't sound the way I think I sound." It's you, all right. When you decide that your quality needs improvement, you are ready to begin.

The exercises at the end of this book, plus the directions for working on defective "s" sounds, excess nasality and omitted final sounds, should give you sufficient assistance on specific difficulties.

Of course, you can't improve your voice quality unless you are willing to make a change. If you are so satisfied with the quality you have now that you do not wish to change, practice will be of no use. Change is inherent in the education process. If you wish to be educated, and to reach higher levels of ability, you must wish to change.

6. Vocal Techniques

The voice of the oral interpreter is his most important tool of communication. It must be able to respond appropriately with variations in pitch, volume, tempo, and quality to convey the meaning of the selection being read. Let us see how the voice may be used to achieve these important effects in oral reading.

Topping

We use topping in dialogue when we wish one character to rise suddenly above another. The character who "tops" dominates the other persons in the script. An abrupt change in volume may result in topping. If everyone has been speaking very loudly, the character who comes in quietly usually tops the others. Pitch may be used to top. If the preceding character has been using a high pitch, a second character coming in suddenly with a low pitch will top the first character. Quality and tempo can likewise be used for topping. But only the reader who has variety in pitch, tempo, volume and quality can achieve the effect of topping. Notice how, in the following dialogue, each character tops the next one until Marion, the little Campfire Girl who has come out to visit at the old ladies home, tops everyone with her concluding speech:

To her surprise, Marion quiet volume
could not remember her with low pitch
name. "I'm a Campfire Girl," she said finally.
"Watch out for the germs," TOPS MARION
said the old woman like a
sheep, not addressing any
one, w
"One came out last month o
r
to see us," said the first old k
woman. . . . i
"Did not!" cried the other TOPS THE FIRST n
old woman. OLD WOMAN g
"Did so! Read to us out of TOPS AGAIN s
the Bible, and we enjoyed l
it!" screamed the first. o
"Who enjoyed it!" said the TOPS AGAIN w
woman in bed. Her mouth l
was unexpectedly small and y
sorrowful, like a pet's.
"We enjoyed it," insisted TOPS AGAIN u
the other. "You enjoyed it- p
I enjoyed it."
"We all enjoyed it," said TOPS THEM ALL t
Marion, without realizing o
that she had said a word.?
loud volume and high pitch

* Eudoni Welty, "A Visit of Charity."

WHEN PRESENTING DIALOGUE, A CHANGE OF VOICE IS NEEDED TO INDICATE DIFFERENT CHARACTERS

Differentiating Characters

In interpreting dialogue, most of the clues you will give an audience, to a change in the person speaking, must be provided by a change in voice. A slight change in pitch, in quality, in volume, or in tempo is often sufficient to differentiate the persons

In the Eudora Welty short story, "Lily Daw and the Three Ladies", the reader must give Lily (a simple-minded girl who wants to get married), Mrs. Carson (the Baptist preacher's wife), Aimee Slocum (the postmistress), and Mrs. Watts (a heavy-set matron) all different characterizations. Suppose the reader decided to keep Lily Daw's tempo slow, Mrs. Carson's quality nasal, Aimee Slocum's pitch high, and Mrs. Watts' volume loud. Properly done, this would be sufficient to permit the reader to omit the "said Mrs. Carson" and "said Mrs. Watts" in the following selection.

"'Hello, Lily," said Mrs. Carson reproachfully. "Hello," said Lily . . .
Mrs. Carson and Mrs. Watts, the two fattest, sat in the double rocker. Aimee Slocum sat on the wire chair donated from the drugstore that burned.
"Well, what are you doing, Lily?" asked Mrs. Watts . . .
Lily smiled . . .
"Go on and tell us what you're doing, Lily," said Aimee Slocum.
"Packing, silly," said Lily.
"Where are you going?"
"Going to get married, and I bet you wish you was me now," said Lily . . .
"Talk to me, dear," said Mrs. Carson. "Tell old Mrs. Carson why you want to get married."
"No," said Lily . . .
"Well, we've thought of something that will be so much nicer," said Mrs. Carson. "Why don't you go to Ellisville?"
"Won't that be lovely?" said Mrs. Watts. "Goodness, yes."
"It's a lovely place," said Aimee Slocum uncertainly.
"You've got bumps on your face," said Lily.

Notice how the "saids" seem to show up very often in the dialogue, when it is read aloud. For silent reading, Miss Welty permitted only one sentence to be given without a label: "Where are you going?" Presumably, it could have been spoken by any of the three ladies. The selection would move much faster and be much more interesting if there was less labeling of characters. A good interpreter could cut down the "saids" to a minimum with proper variations of pitch, tempo, volume and quality to establish which character was speaking.

A special problem arises when a man has to read women's roles and vice versa. In some instances, the selection will itself carry the sex differentiation. In others, some slight adjustment must be made. We would offer the following advice:
(1) Under no circumstances should a man attempt to imitate a woman's voice, or a woman try to sound just like a man.
(2) A slight suggestion may be in order. The man may raise his pitch just a little, or the woman may lower hers; but the change should be subtle.
(3) If possible, the dialogue of the opposite sex should be cut down, so that the reader spends most of his time giving material spoken by his own sex.

Establishing Plateaus

It may be that the selection will call for sustaining a given atmosphere for a period of time before varying from it. We say that the reader establishes a plateau and remains on that plateau, at least long enough for the audience to get the feeling that a level of action has been reached.

In order to establish this feeling of level, it will be necessary to maintain the same pitch, or the same tempo, or the same quality, or the same volume, or a combination of these four while on the plateau. When the reader wishes to signal the end of the plateau, he makes a sharp change in voice to break the established mood.

In Edwin Arlington Robinson's poem, "Richard Cory", the reader may wish to establish a plateau in stanza three and the first two lines of stanza four in order to heighten the contrast with the last two surprising lines. Suppose we decided on a relatively constant pitch and Volume for these lines with a decided drop in pitch and volume for the concluding sentence. Do you think you could establish the plateau sufficiently to heighten the climax of the poem?
Whenever Richard Cory went down town, We people on the pavement looked at him: He was a gentleman from sole to crown, Clean favored, and imperially slim.
And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
"Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.
And he was rich-yes, richer than a king- And admirably schooled in every grace: In fine, we thought that he was everything To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light, And went without meat, and cursed the bread; And Richard Cory, one calm summer night, Went home and put a bullet through his head.

7. The Body in Oral Reading

The interpreter, although he makes no sweeping movements or gestures, reads with his whole body. All of his muscles respond to the reading, so that his body acts as a sounding board for the type of thinking he is doing.

There are two kinds of body movement: kinetic movement is the overt or visible movement of the oral reader; and kinesthetic movement is the covert or almost invisible movement of the oral reader.

Kinetic Movement

The only overt movements that the oral interpreter can afford to make are those which are an integral part of the selection. If, at the end of the reading, the audience is unable to list the movements of the reader, such movements have been successful. However, as soon as the audience is aware that the reader is obviously making certain motions, then the movement is poor.

There are, therefore, very few gestures that the oral reader makes. A slight shrug of the shoulders, or an outstretched palm, or a stiffening of posture are the broadest movements he makes. His eyes, of course, are alive and full of expression. His facial muscles respond obviously to the mood of the reading.

The muscles of the face play an important part in oral reading. If the script says, "Mary laughed heartily," your facial muscles must show the outline of humor. You cannot expect an audience to get the feeling of a hearty laugh if you look like a wooden Indian. It is not necessary to grin from ear to ear, but it is necessary to suggest the audience reaction by responding yourself.

For example, in Max Beerbohm's famous essay, "Seeing People Off," the script says, "One of us, with a nod and a forced smile at the traveler, said, 'Well!'" It will help the audience to get the feeling of a forced smile if the reader expresses this very smile with his own face.

If the script says, "John became very angry," your facial muscles must show anger. We are not saying that you must actually become angry; we are saying you ought to give the audience the feeling of anger, and that, therefore, the muscles of the face should assume the positions of anger. The oral interpreter cannot afford to read this selection with a "straight face". He must fully respond to its mood with facial reactions.

Kinesthetic Movement

The covert movements that the oral interpreter makes are continuous. All the muscles of his body tighten and relax in response to the script. The obvious part of the muscular movement is limited, but the hidden part assists greatly in carrying his meaning.

The kinesthetic muscular movement is important for more than one reason. The voice of the body responds to its housing. If the housing is limp and flaccid when the voice is trying to be crisp and harsh, the result is contradictory. The voice is pulling one way and the body another. They should be both pulling the same way.

The audience senses the muscular response of the reader. The tightening or relaxing of the muscles may not be obvious, but it is conveyed, not only in the voice, but also in the general demeanor of the reader.

It takes hard work to convey meaning to an audience. The reader must work with all that is in his command, not just with part of it. He must act as an engine which puts into motion the minds of many other people. As a generator, he must keep up his own power. Giving a total bodily response to the reading helps the reader to put across his meaning with maximum effectiveness.

Therefore, although the reader does not make many broad movements, he suggests these movements so that the audience can imagine many more specific reactions. Remember, the audience can imagine itself much more angry than you can be angry. You cannot afford to become emotional, because you must be in complete control of yourself. Use movement to increase the intensity of the audience's feelings, and let your success here determine how much movement you should use.

8. The Introduction in Oral Reading

Review the comments concerning introductions made in the chapter on "How Do We Read Aloud?" These general comments pertain to all types of literature. We now wish to give specific suggestions for the introduction of each type of literature.

The Short Story

The names of the characters of the short story should usually be mentioned in the introduction. Do not say, "The characters in this short story are . . ." Bring up the names indirectly. For example, if you were introducing the selection (further below), you might say: "When the Baptist preacher's wife, Mrs. Carson, is trying to make simple-minded Lily Daw go to the institution for the feeble-minded rather than get married, Aimee Slocum, the postmistress, and Mrs. Watts, the third matron of the town of Victory, are trying to help all they can."

If you are using only part of the story, be certain to give the audience the action that has transpired up to the time your reading begins. Do not write down these comments so that you have to read them. Rather, think through the preceding action carefully, make some brief notes on what you want to say, and give your introduction from those notes.

It may be that you will have to interrupt your reading from time to time and paraphrase portions of the story, so that you will have sufficient time to read the more vital sections. This is perfectly acceptable.

Essays and Letters

Again, the names of persons, and even of places, mentioned in essays and letters should be previewed in the introduction. A Max Beerbohm essay begins, "On a bleak morning of last week, I duly turned up at Euston, to see off an old friend who was starting for America." What does the word "Euston" mean to you? Probably no more than it does to most people, until the reader explains in the introduction that it is one of London's prominent railway stations.

The reader of essays and letters is usually obligated to give some discussion of the meaning of his selection. He should speculate as to the purpose of the author in writing the composition. He may also go so far as to suggest to the audience how it can profit from listening to the selection.

The reader may also wish to bring in additional historical points of interest which will heighten the meaning of the essay or letter.

The Novel

Most of the statements about the short story also pertain to the novel, except that the problems are considerably greater because the novel covers much more ground and involves many more characters. The reader must therefore limit his introductory discussion to only those items which are pertinent to the portions of the novel he intends to read. He should cut his selection carefully to exclude any proper names and persons which are not essential to the story. An audience does not like to have to keep track of too many characters or places.

Of course, if it is essential to the plot, the audience must have some information on the background of the novel from which the reading has been taken so that they will have a thorough understanding of the situation. This can be done in a few sentences describing the scene and setting.

Most novels also have a purpose. The theme of the story may be presented in the introduction if it has a definite bearing on the selection being read. Here again, your introductory remarks should be kept at a minimum in order not to detract from the reading of the selection.

Lyric Poetry

Suppose you are going to read a lyric poem like Barter by Sara Teasdale. A simple, sincere introduction is all that is necessary. You might say: I am going to read one of the most beautiful of modern poems. It is entitled, Barter, and was written by Sara Teasdale whose lyric poems are noted for their simplicity and purity of form. In this poem, she brings us a message that is well worth remembering.

Life has loveliness to sell-
All beautiful and splendid things,
Blue waves whitened on a cliff,
Climbing fire that sways and sings,
And children's faces looking up
Holding wonder like a cup.
Life has a loveliness to sell-
Music like a curve of gold,
Scent of pine trees in the rain,
Eyes that love you, arms that hold,
And for your spirit's still delight,
Holy thoughts that star the night.
Spend all you have for loveliness,
Buy it and never count the cost,
For one white singing hour of peace
Count many a year of strife well lost,
And for a breath of ecstasy
Give all you have been or could be.

Narrative Poetry

Narrative poetry may be treated much in the same way as the short story and the novel, with the exception of the rhythm pattern involved. You may want to point out the rhyme features of the selection.

The Play

The introduction to the play is very similar to the introduction to the novel, with one major exception: the characters will have to be more carefully established, because the script will contain few clues as to the person speaking. It is expected that the audience will see that one person differs from another, and therefore written comments are not necessary.

You may wish to establish your characters in detail, even giving the way in which the characters are arranged in the setting. Do not point to particular places in the room in which you are reading, but describe with words their positions. Suppose you were introducing the part of Act III in Thornton Wilder's Our Town in which Emily Webb goes back to life from death to relive her twelfth birthday. You might say:

Emily Webb has died in childbirth, leaving behind her an unfinished life in the small New England town of Grover's Corners. She has joined the dead people who are sitting quietly on stage right, peacefully watching the mourners, carrying black umbrellas, who have come to the cemetery on the left. When Emily begs to go back, to relive her twelfth birthday, she is advised not to, but she goes anyway. She proceeds slowly from the dead on the right to the living on stage left and finds herself back home again, with her father, her mother, and her brother, Wally.

Thornton Wilder seems to be saying that when a young girl like Emily dies, leaving behind her a farm, a husband and two little babies, the tragedy is only for those who are left behind.

Of course, you would have to insert several sentences from time to time to introduce new characters, such as, "When Mr. Webb, the newspaper editor, enters, Emily watches her father carefully."

9. Evaluating the Effectiveness of Interpretation

Naturally, after you have finished working hard on a selection, you will want to know whether or not you did it well. We will offer you a crude yardstick with which to measure your success. Suppose we use Walt Whitman's poem, "To A Locomotive in Winter," as the basis for our comments:
Thee in the driving storm even as now, the snow, the winter-day declining,
Thee in thy panoply, thy measur'd dual throbbing and thy beat convulsive,
Thy black cylindrical body, golden brass and silvery steel,
Thy ponderous side-bars, parallel and connecting rods, gyrating, shuttling at thy sides,
Thy metrical, now swelling pant and roar, now tapering in tiie distance,
Thy great protruding head-light fix'd in front,

Thy long, pale, floating vapor-pennants, tinged with delicate purple,
The dense and murky clouds out-belching from thy smokestack,
Thy knitted frame, thy springs and valves, the tremulous twinkle of thy wheels,
Thy train of cars behind, obedient, merrily following,
Through gale or calm, now swift, now slack, yet steadily careering;
Type of the modern-emblem of motion and power-pulse of the continent,
For once come serve the Muse and merge in verse, even as here I see thee,
With storm and buffeting gusts of wind and falling snow,
By day thy warning ringing bell to sound its notes,
By night thy silent signal lamps to swing.
Fierce-throated beauty!
Roll through my chant with all thy lawless music, thy swinging lamps at night,
Thy madly-whistled laughter, echoing, rumbling like an earthquake, rousing all,
Law of thyself complete, thine own track firmly holding,
(No sweetness debonair of tearful harp or glib piano thine,)
Thy trills of shrieks by rocks and hills return'd,
Launch'd o'er the prairies wide, across the lakes,
To the free skies unpent and glad and strong.

Did you establish sufficient contact (or rapport) with your audience to achieve empathy? We define empathy as the imaginative projection of one's own consciousness into another being. In other words, empathy results when you have made other people think the way you wish them to think.

If you are successful in achieving empathy, you will have projected your thoughts successfully into the minds of your audience and they will react as you wish them to react. If you are unusually successful in achieving empathy, you may even see the members of the audience grow tense as you wish them to, and, as we say, "sit on the edges of the chairs."

If you achieved empathy in the Walt Whitman poem, you would want the audience to grasp the same sense of power and motion that you had when you read the poem. If, after the poem, some members of the audience sat quietly, still in the grip of the imagery and rhythm of Whitman's words, you could be reasonably sure that you had achieved empathy with them.

Did you maintain aesthetic distance? Aesthetic distance may be defined as that degree of separation between you and your audience which allows the audience to see the image of the selection and not the image of you. It allows the audience to imagine the setting and mood of the poem. It makes you unseen and unheard. The selection reigns supreme.

Aesthetic distance is broken when you intrude through this imaginative realm; when the audience becomes aware of you- that you are gesturing, that you have lost your place, that you are speaking very loudly, or that you have turned the page of your manuscript. Aesthetic distance is often broken by a reader who tries too hard. Such a reader, instead of acting as a lens, gets into the picture.

With the Walt Whitman poem, you would want the audience to see the gleaming, black locomotive, hurtling through the wintry night. You would not want to break this aesthetic distance by replacing the pounding wheels with your pounding fists, for instance.

Did you use economy of effort? The successful oral reader does the most with the least effort. If you feel after the reading that you have done much, yet with restraint, then you have been successful.

The Whitman poem should be read quietly but forcefully, without fanfare or bombast. Let it speak for itself. Do not push the emotional situation at your audience. If you do, the empathy that you hope to develop will not appear.

Have you or your audience achieved catharsis? Catharsis is defined as eliminating a psychological complex by bringing it to consciousness and affording it expression. In other words, the process of catharsis allows us to get rid of some of our "black cats" by vicariously releasing them. The classic catharsis was the use of tragic plays by the ancient Greeks to purge their audiences of pity and fear.

If, by reading the Whitman poem, you are able to release any kind of repressed feelings that you may have had, through vicariously sharing the brute power of the locomotive, you will have achieved catharsis. You hope, of course, that your audience will do the same. Certainly you could be proud of your reading if you had also been able to assist your audience to understand Whitman's message that drive and determination can see one through the storms of life "to the free skies" of self-respect.

This chapter has discussed the five main steps in oral interpretation; (1) the purposes of reading aloud; (2) choosing the selection; (3) understanding the selection; (4) delivering the selection; and (5) evaluating the effectiveness of interpretation. It, together with the chapter on "How Do We Read Aloud?", should give you sufficient information to read aloud successfully.

Exercises

1. Write an essay on why we study oral reading. Include in your discussion the material on this subject discussed in the chapter on "How Do We Read Aloud?" as well as that in this chapter.

2. Prepare a manuscript for any one of the following three poems.
To a Post Office Inkwell by Christopher Morley

Your pool of ink, your scratchy pen, Have moved the lives of unborn men, And watched young people, breathing hard, Put Heaven on a postal card.

How many humble hearts have dipped In you, and scrawled their manuscript! Have shared their secrets, told their cares, Their curious and quaint affairs!

Nancy Hanks, 1784-1818 by Rosemary Benet

If Nancy Hanks came back as a ghost, seeking news of what
she loved most,
She'd ask first, "Where's my son? What's happened to Abe? What's he done?"
"Poor little Abe, left all alone except for Tom, who's a rolling
stone.
He was only nine the year I died. I remember still how hard he cried.
"Scraping along in a little shack, with hardly a shirt to cover
his back,
And a prairie wind to blow him down, or pinching times if he went to town.
"You wouldn't know about my son? Did he grow tall? Did he
have fun?
Did he learn to read? Did he get to town? Do you know his name? Did he get on?"
The Grocer and the Gold-Fish by Wilfred Thorley
I'd asked the grocer for Cheddar cheese, but cried out, "O
Sir, how much for these?" For on his counter, as large as life, were a big gold-fish and
his golden wife.
Wasn't it ripping! Among the bins to find them flipping their
tails and fins? Safe in their bowl with food all round, packet on packet, and
pound on pound!
Said Mr. Melling, "Ev'n to you, Sir, I'm not selling Sam nor
Sue, Sir. There they floats and feeds and kisses, Gold-fish Sam and
Sue his Mrs."
"I'm sorry, Sonny," (And so was I.) "But no-one's money them
fish won't buy." So I lost my wish, for what is deader, compared with fish,
than a pound of Cheddar?

3. Read the following selections, and be prepared to discuss in class how learning to read each selection out loud would help you increase your silent reading ability.

Cargoes by John Masefield
Quinquireme of Nineveh from distant Ophir,
Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine,
With a cargo of ivory,
And apes and peacocks,
Sandalwood, cedar wood, and sweet white wine.
Stately Spanish galleon coming from the Isthmus,
Dipping through the Tropics by the palm-green shores,
With a cargo of diamonds,
Emeralds, amethysts,
Topazes, and cinnamon, and gold moidores.
Dirty British coaster with a salt-caked smoke stack,
Butting through the Channel in the mad March days,
With a cargo of Tyne coal,
Road-rails, pig-lead,
Firewood, iron-ware, and cheap tin trays.
Young Charlottie by William Lorenzo Carter
In a dark and a lonely spot;
No dwelling was in three miles around,
Except her father's cot.
And many a lonely winter's night Young swains would gather there; Her father kept a social abode, And she was very fair.
On New Year's Eve, the sun gone down, With a dark and a wistful eye Young Charlottie sat by her father's door To watch the sleighs go by.
But brightly beamed her restless eye, As a well-known voice she heard; Come driving up to the cottage door, Young Charlie's sleigh appeared.
"There is a merry ball tonight Just fifteen miles away; The air is freezing cold as death, But our hearts are light and gay."
"Charlottie, dear," her mother said, "This blanket around you fold, For it's a dreadful night outside, And you'll catch your death of cold."
"Oh no, no, no," Charlottie said, For she felt like a gypsy queen, "To ride in a blanket muffled up I never would be seen.
"My silken cloak is enough for me, It's lined, you know, throughout; And here I have my silken scarf To tie my neck about."
Her bonnet and her scarf were on, She stepped into the sleigh; Away they rode to the mountain side And o'er the hills away.
"It's a dreadful night," young Charlie said, "The reins I scarce can hold." Then Charlottie said in these few words, "I am exceeding cold."
He cracked his whip, he urged his team Much faster than before, Until five more merry miles In silence they passed o'er.
"How fast," said Charlie, "The ice and snow Are freezing on my brow." Then Charlottie said in these few words, "I'm growing warmer now."
They drove along in the frosty air And in the cold starlight, Until at length at the village ball They both appeared in sight.
He drove to the door and then jumped out,
He gave to her his hand;
He asked her for her hand again,
But still she did not stir.
He took her by the lily-white hand, It was cold and hard as stone; He lifted the scarf from off her brow, While the stars above them shone.
Then quickly to the lighted hall Her lifeless corpse he bore; Young Charlottie was frozen to death And she never spoke no more.
He twined his arms around her neck,
He kissed her marble brow,
While his thoughts went back to where she said,
"I'm growing warmer now."

4. What do you suppose was the poet's purpose in writing Young Charlottie? Does the poem still carry an important message for us today?

5. Paraphrase O'Shanghnessy's "Ode".
Ode by Arthur O'Shaughnessy
We are the music makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams, Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;- World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams: Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world for ever, it seems.
With wonderful deathless ditties We build up the world's great cities,
And out of a fabulous story
We fashion an empire's glory: One man with a dream, at pleasure,
Shall go forth and conquer a crown; And three with a new song's measure
Can trample a kingdom down.
We, in the ages lying
In the buried past of the earth, Built Nineveh with our sighing,
And Babel itself in our mirth; And o'erthrew them with prophesying
To the old of the new world's worth; For each age is a dream that is dying,
Or one that is coming to birth.

6. Label each mood in the "Ode", forming a table similar to the one given above, listing the mood in the left column and the line which introduces this mood in the right column.

7. Further below, is one of Robert Frost's most famous poems, "The Road Not Taken". Prepare yourself to read this selection by doing the following:
a. Read a biography of Robert Frost, preferably A Swinger of Birches by Sidney Cox (N.Y., New York University Press, 1957).
b. Read the other selections by Frost given in this book.
c. Read the three critical analyses of his work below.
(1) From Laurence Perrine, Sound and Sense (New York: Harcourt, Brace and World), some specific comments on the poem itself:

A symbol may be roughly defined as something that means more than what it is. "The Road Not Taken", for instance, concerns a choice made between two roads by a person out walking in the woods. He would like to explore both roads. He tells himself that he will explore one and then come back and explore the other, but he knows that he shall probably be unable to do so. By the last stanza, however, we realize that the poet is talking about something more than the choice of paths in a wood, for such a choice would be relatively unimportant, while this choice is one which will make a great difference in the speaker's life and which he will remember with a sigh "ages and ages hence". We must interpret his choice of a road as a symbol for any choice in life between alternatives which appear almost equally attractive but which will result through the years in a big difference in the kind of experience one knows . . .

Symbols vary in the degree of identification and definition that their authors give them. Frost, in his poem, forces us to interpret the choice of roads symbolically by the degree of importance he gives it in the last stanza.
(2) From John Ciardi, "Robert Frost: The Way to the Poem", Saturday Review of Literature, April 12, 1958, pp. 13-15, 65, some general comments on Robert Frost as a poet:

The School System has much to say these days of the virtue of reading widely, and not enough about the virtues of reading less but in depth . . . Poetry ... is one poem at a time. To read any one poem carefully is the ideal preparation for reading another. Only a poem can illustrate how poetry works . . .

Many readers are forever unable to accept the poet's essential duplicity. It is almost safe to say that a poem is never about what it seems to be about . . .
Mr. Frost has often discussed this poem on the platform, or more usually in the course of a long-evening-after a talk. Time and again, I have heard him say that he just wrote it off, that it just came to him and that he set it down as it came. Once ... I heard him add one very essential piece to the discussion of how it 'just came.' One night, he said, he had sat down after supper to work at a long piece of blank verse. The piece never worked out, but Mr. Frost found himself so absorbed in it that, when next he looked up, dawn was at his window. He rose, crossed to the window, stood looking out for a few minutes, and then it was that "Stopping by Woods" suddenly "just came", so that all he had to do was cross the room and write it down.

Robert Frost is the sort of artist who hides his traces. I know of no Frost worksheets anywhere. If someone has raided his wastebasket in secret, it is possible that such worksheets exist somewhere, but Frost would not willingly allow anything but the finished product to leave him. Almost certainly, therefore, no one will ever know what was in that piece of unsuccessful blank verse he had been working at with such concentration. I for one would stake my life that could that worksheet be uncovered, it would be found to contain the germinal stuff of "Stopping by Woods"; that was what was a-simmer in him all night without finding its proper form. Suddenly, when he let his still-occupied mind look away, it came at him from a different direction, offered itself in a different form, and finding that form exactly right, the impulse proceeded to marry itself to the new shape in one of the most miraculous performances of English lyricism.

(4) From Louis Untermeyer's commentary on The Road Not Taken, a collection of poems by Robert Frost (New York: Henry Holt, 1951), pp. 269-270:
(5) Robert Frost has gone his own way. He could not help it; his destination-and perhaps his destiny-was directed by the spirit behind the man. This inevitable progress is indicated in a much-quoted and much misunderstood poem, "The Road Not Taken". Once, while traveling alone, Frost tells us, he stood at a fork in the road, undecided which path to take. Finally, he chose one because it seemed a little less frequented, though actually there was no such difference for "the passing there had worn them really about the same." Yet, even at the moment of choice, the poet quizzically imagined that the choice was important, that he would someday tell himself he took the less traveled road:

"And that has made all the difference." The poet's "difference" is in him from the beginning, long before he sets out on his career. The road that Robert Frost took was not only the "different" road, the right road for him, but the only road he could have taken.

d. Write a summary sentence of what you think Robert Frost intended for us to learn from "The Road Not Taken".
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I- I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

8. Clarify the figurative meanings of the following words and phrases, taken from William Wordsworth's sonnet, "London, 1802", which you will find on the next page.
"she is a fen of stagnant waters" "fireside"
"altar" "Thy soul was like a star"
"sword" "a voice whose sound was like
"pen" the sea"

London, 1802, by William Wordsworth
Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour:
England hath need of thee: she is a fen
Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen,
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,
Have forfeited their ancient English dower
Of inward happiness. We are selfish men;
Oh! raise us up, return to us again;
And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart:
Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea,
Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free;
So didst thou travel on life's common way
In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart
The lowliest duties on herself did lay.

9. The following exercises are suggested to improve voice quality:
a. Pronounce the following words, clearly, stressing the sibilant (s or z) in each word:
"s" sound
sock aspirin tents
sunburn restaurant pumps
silver recipe roasts
slipper respect kicks
seaweed rescue licks
"z" sound
zebra reservoir sends
zither zephyr renders
zany Rosalind legs
zoo rosebud birds
zeal zero rubs

Note that words that begin with the sound "z" usually begin with the letter "z", but that when the "z" sound is in the middle or end of a word, it may be represented by an "s".

b. Pronounce each of the following groups of words with deliberate excess nasality by leaving "the door open" to the nasal chamber. Then, pronounce the same words with the proper amount of nasality.

SET ONE - SET TWO - SET THREE
cat can - hit pin - help hen
rat hand - lit link - kept pen
sat fan - quit brink - depth lend
bat land - mitt drink - met wren
fat band - bit sink - wet Emma

The second list in each set will be harder because, in these, the vowels are followed by sounds that are normally nasal, and we tend to begin these nasality's too early. Also notice the difference between "pin" and "pen". These two words should not sound alike.

c. Practice pronouncing each of the following words clearly. Try to pronounce each consonant clearly but without overemphasis. Check your pronunciation with a dictionary.
rhubarb bloodhound prig expressive
suburb hundred lag fixative
superb dashboard slag preventive
disturb gerund flag illustrative
bathtub gratitude twig locomotive
blowup manuscript earthquake foodstuff
censorship coronet eclipse himself
follow-up cornettist epidemic photograph
grippe physicist flintlock foolproof
handicap essayist heatstroke headscarf
familiarize loathe observance filth
onwards clothe insistence half-truth
paraphrase soothe insurance Sabbath
localize seethe obedience sackcloth
regularize lathe physics south

10. The following exercises are suggested to improve the pitch of your voice.
a. Try reading these lines in a lower pitch than usual:
In Flanders fields the poppies blow between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place. And in the sky the larks, still bravely singing, fly, scarce heard amidst the guns below.
John McCrae
Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, who never to himself hath said, "This is my own-my native land!"

Sir Walter Scott

Listen, my children, and you shall hear of the midnight ride of Paul Revere. On the eighteenth of April, in 75, hardly a man is now alive who remembers that famous day and year.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Can you keep the pitch down consistently? Do you feel more comfortable with the pitch down? What do your classmates think of the lower pitch? Do they like it better?

b. Go into a store where you are not known, and purchase a small item. Engage the sales person in conversation, and use a lower pitch than you usually do. Report the results of your adventure to the class.
Did the salesman notice anything unusual in the way you spoke?
Could you keep the pitch down?
Did you feel conspicuous using the new pitch, or was it comfortable?

11. The following exercises are suggested to improve the volume of your voice.
a. The class will meet at a period designated by your instructor in the school auditorium. Be prepared to read the following selection so that everyone in the auditorium can hear you. Your classmates will be seated in various parts of the auditorium. They will raise their hands when they cannot hear you. See if you can get all the way through without a hand being raised.
Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands.
Serve the Lord with gladness. Come before his presence
with singing.
Know ye that the Lord he is God. It is he that hath made
us, and not we ourselves.
We are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.
Enter into his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts
with praise.
Be thankful unto him, and bless his name.
For the Lord is good. His mercy is everlasting. And his truth endureth to all generations.
The Bible. Psalm 100.

b. Go to your school auditorium, and practice Psalm 100, first keeping your mouth fairly closed when you talk and then opening your mouth wide. Notice how much more volume you can get with your mouth wide open.

c. There is a difference between projecting your voice effectively and shouting. Try shouting these selections, and then try using your mouth, nose, and larynx to project it in a more conversational manner.

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: Its loveliness increases; It will never pass into nothingness; but still will keep a bower quiet for us, and a sleep full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
John Keats
The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day; The score stood 4 to 2, with but one inning more to play; And so, when Cooney died at first, and Burrows did the same, A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.
Ernest L. Thayer

12. The following exercises are suggested to improve the timing of your voice.

a. Practice reading the following selections very slowly.
The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul. He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. For Thou art with me. Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies. Thou anointest my head with oil. My cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life. And I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. The Bible; Psalm 23.

b. Practice reading the following selection very fast.
I'd like a different dog for every kind of weather-
A narrow greyhound for a fog,
A wolfhound strange and white, with a tail like a silver
feather to run with in the night . . . When snow is still and winter stars are bright.
In the fall I'd like to see in answer to my whistle, a golden spaniel look at me.
But best of all for rain a terrier, hairy as a thistle, to trot with fine disdain beside me down the soaked, sweet-smelling lane.
Winifred Welles

Don't Overdo the Gestures

In this chapter, we have been talking of the importance of using your body and hands effectively when interpreting a selection. However, this can be overdone. Have you ever seen an old time movie or stage play? And have you laughed at the exaggerated gesticulating that was considered the essence of dramatics by high school students at the turn of the century?
In those days, a favorite selection for oral reading was entitled "Curfew Shall Not Ring Tonight." It told a harrowing love story in old England during the 17th century. Those were perilous times indeed! It was then that a young man was condemned to die at sundown when the curfew would be rung. His only chance to be rescued from this awful predicament was if Cromwell arrived with his army in time.
The young man's sweetheart, Bessie, determined that the curfew would not ring that night until Cromwell arrived. In order to accomplish this, Bessie went up into the old bell tower and climbed aboard the clapper of the big bell. You can well imagine the field day that the elocutionists had in interpreting Bessie swinging to and fro on the clapper as the sexton below wondered why there was no sound coming from the big bell as it swung back and forth.
Here was a situation that would tax the abilities of even the best actress. As presented by the average high school girl, it often was ridiculous. Finally, the poet, W. D. Nesbit, decided to write this parody of the famous poem with directions for its presentation.
England's sun was slowly setting-(Raise your right hand
to your brow), Filling all the land with beauty-(Wear a gaze of rapture
now); And the last rays kissed the forehead of a man and maiden
fair
(With a movement slow and graceful, you may now push
back your hair); He with sad, bowed head-(A drooping of your head will
be all right, Till you hoarsely, sadly whisper) "Curfew must not ring
tonight."
"Sexton," Bessie's white lips falter-(Try here to resemble
Bess, Though, of course, you know she'd never worn quite such
a charming dress),
"I've a lover in that prison-(Don't forget to roll your r's And to shiver as though gazing through the iron prison
bars). "Cromwell will not come till sunset"-(Speak each word
as though you'd bite Every syllable to pieces) -"Curfew must not ring tonight."
"Bessie," calmly spoke the sexton-(Here extend your
velvet palm. Let it tremble like the sexton's as though striving to be
calm). "Long, long y'ars I've rung the curfew"-(Don't forget to
make it y'ars,
With a pitiful inflection that a world of sorrow bears). "I have done my duty ever"-(Draw yourself up to your
height, For you're speaking as the sexton)-"Gyurl, the curfew
RINGS TONIGHT!"
Out she swung, far out-(Now here is where you've got to
do your best; Let your head be twisted backward, let great sobs heave
up your chest; Swing your right foot through an arc of ninety lineal
degrees. Then come down and swing your left foot, and be sure
don't bend your knees; Keep this up for fifteen minutes till your face is worn and
white, Then gaze at your mangled fingers)-"Curfew shall not
ring tonight!"
O'er the distant hills came Cromwell-(Right hand to the brow once more;
Let your eyes look down the distance, say above the entrance door).
At his foot she told her story-(Lift your hands as though
they hurt), And her sweet young face was haggard-(Now your
pathos you assert. Then you straighten up as Cromwell, and be sure you get
it right; Don't say, "Go, your liver loves!")-well, "Curfew shall not
ring tonight!"

13. Prepare a selection to read to the class. Formulate a suitable introduction for your selection. Be prepared to discuss how you analyzed the selection for presentation, how you planned to use your voice and body in presenting it, and how you pre pared your introduction.

14. Evaluate the other members of the class as they read.
Write an essay on your evaluation, dividing your essay into these four divisions: empathy, aesthetic distance, economy of effort, and catharsis.

15. Employ the techniques of topping, character differentiation, and plateau establishment in the following selections:
The Stubborn Wife by Norbert Guterman
Once a peasant shaved his beard and said to his wife: "Look how well I have shaved." "But you haven't shaved, you have only clipped your beard!" "You're lying, you wretch, I have shaved." "No, it's clipped," The husband thrashed his wife and insisted: "Say it's shaved, or I'll drown you!" "Do what you will, it's still clipped." He took her to the river to drown her. "Say it's shaved!" "No, it's clipped." He led her into the water up to her neck and shoved her head in. "Say it's shaved!" The wife could no longer speak, but she raised her hand from the water and showed by moving two fingers like a pair of scissors that his beard was clipped.

From Through Charley's Door by Emily Kimbrough 2
Mrs. Hahner wheeled around to me. She resumed instantly her earlier tone. She resumed also her former line of march and I fell in behind her. "And when I say I want to talk to someone on Fashions of the Hour" she began, "I mean Achsah, and not some young whippersnapper coming down here to cut her teeth."
In her office, she was silent for a second or two, as she gathered breath for the attack. Then came a dressing down such as I had never in my life experienced. I was the object of scorn and derision and fury. I epitomized the Advertising Bureau. We were all inefficient and arrogant. We lied, we cheated, we were jealous of her. Why didn't we come out frankly and say we'd like to get rid of her?
Suddenly I was very angry. I was fighting, furiously mad. Shaken, and scarcely knowing where I was, I turned and stumbled toward the door. Mrs. Hahner called after me, "Where do you think you're going?"
"I'm going up to my office," I said. "I don't intend to be talked to like this by anyone. Not ever. I work for Field's, and Field's can fire me, but nobody can do this."
I had reached the door when a quiet, serene voice behind me queried, "How about going to lunch with me?"
I looked around. Her face had broken up into wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth, making parentheses around a broad, generous, humorous grin. "I've got an Irish temper," she said, "because I'm Irish."
I had not hit anyone since the age of ten, but I very nearly had to report to my parents that I had clouted a woman twice my age. Instead, I went to lunch with Mrs. Hahner.
From Home Burial by Robert Frost
He saw her from the bottom of the stairs Before she saw him. She was starting down, Looking back over her shoulder at some fear. She took a doubtful step and then undid it To raise herself and look again. He spoke
Advancing toward her: "What is it you see
From up there always-for I want to know?"
She turned and sank upon her skirts at that,
And her face changed from terrified to dull.
He said to gain time: "What is it you see?"
Mounting until she cowered under him.
"I will find out now-you must tell me, dear."
She, in her place, refused him any help.
With the least stiffening of her neck and silence,
She let him look, sure that he wouldn't see,
Blind creature; and a while he didn't see.
But at last he murmured, "Oh," and again, "Oh."
"What is it-what?" she said.
"Just that I see." "You don't," she challenged. "Tell me what it is."
"The wonder is I didn't see at once.
I never noticed it from here before.
I must be wonted to it-that's the reason.
The little graveyard where my people are!
So small the window frames the whole of it.
Not so much larger than a bedroom, is it?
There are three stones of slate and one of marble,
Broad-shouldered little slabs there in the sunlight
On the sidehill. We haven't to mind those.
But I understand: it is not the stones,
But the child's mound-"

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