Towards a Better Understanding of Metonymy [New edition.] 9781788743464, 1788743466

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PETER LANG

VOL. 44

CSDL: LITERARY AND C ULTURAL S TY L I ST I C S

TOWARDS A BETTER UNDERSTANDING OF METONYMY

Wojciech Wachowski

Wojciech Wachowski

TOWARDS A BETTER UNDERSTANDING OF METONYMY

TOWARDS A BETTER UNDERSTANDING OF METONYMY

CONTEMPORARY STUDIES IN DESCRIPTIVE LINGUISTICS LITERARY AND CULTURAL STYLISTICS VOL. 44

Edited by PROFESSOR GRAEME DAVIS & KARL A. BERNHARDT

PETER LANG

Oxford Bern Berlin Bruxelles New York Wien •

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Wojciech Wachowski

TOWARDS A BETTER UNDERSTANDING OF METONYMY

PETER LANG

Oxford Bern Berlin Bruxelles New York Wien •

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Bibliographic information published by Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche National­ bibliografie; detailed bibliographic data is available on the Internet at http://dnb.d-nb.de. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Wachowski, Wojciech, author. Title: Towards a better understanding of metonymy / Wojciech Wachowski. Description: Oxford ; New York : Peter Lang, 2019. | Series: Literary and cultural stylistics ; 44 | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2018024750 | ISBN 9781788743457 (alk. paper) Subjects: LCSH: Metonyms. | Cognitive grammar. Classification: LCC P301.5.M49 W65 2018 | DDC 401/.43--dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018024750

Cover design by Peter Lang Ltd. ISSN 1660-9301 ISBN 978-1-78874-345-7 (print) • ISBN 978-1-78874-346-4 (ePDF) ISBN 978-1-78874-347-1 (ePub) • ISBN 978-1-78874-348-8 (mobi) © Peter Lang AG 2019 Published by Peter Lang Ltd, International Academic Publishers, 52 St Giles, Oxford, OX1 3LU, United Kingdom [email protected], www.peterlang.com Wojciech Wachowski has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Author of this Work. All rights reserved. All parts of this publication are protected by copyright. Any utilisation outside the strict limits of the copyright law, without the permission of the publisher, is forbidden and liable to prosecution. This applies in particular to reproductions, translations, microfilming, and storage and processing in electronic retrieval systems. This publication has been peer reviewed.

Contents

List of Figures   vii List of Tables   xiii Acknowledgements   xv Typographical conventions   xvii Introduction   1 Chapter 1

Metonymy: The name and definition   7 Chapter 2

Metonymy: The scope   53 Chapter 3

Metonymy: The functions   107 Chapter 4

Metaphor, metonymy, and synecdoche: Problematic issues   129 Conclusion   151 Bibliography   155 Index   171

Figures

Figure 1. Shakespeare caricature (by Court Jones, 2008). Reproduced with permission from the author   10 Figure 2. The Dog Picture (Marr 1982: 101). Reproduced with permission from the author   12 Figure 3. The Kanizsa Triangle (public domain)   13 Figure 4. The law of prägnanz (by Boeree). Reproduced with permission from the author   14 Figure 5. Guernica (1937) by Pablo Picasso   17 Figure 6. The basic metonymic relation (Panther and Thornburg 2018: 124). Reproduced with permission from the authors and publishing house   37 Figure 7. Domain matrix underlying the concept of the letter T (Croft 2003: 170). Reproduced with permission from the author   47 Figure 8. Sign, reference and concept metonymies (Radden and Kövecses 1999: 23). Reproduced with permission from the authors   49 Figure 9. Figures of speech – antiquity (Nerlich and Clarke 1999: 198)   54

viii

Figure 10. Figures of speech – classical rhetoric (Nerlich and Clarke 1999: 199)   54 Figure 11. Figures of speech – Jakobson (Nerlich and Clarke 1999: 199)   55 Figure 12. Figures of speech – Burkhardt, Seto, Nerlich and Clarke (Nerlich and Clarke 1999: 203)   56 Figure 13. Metaphor and metonymy distinguished on the basis of the number of conceptual mappings (correspondences) involved (Brdar and Brdar-­Szabó 2013: 202)   57 Figure 14. Metaphor and metonymy distinguished on the basis of domain inclusion (Brdar and Brdar-­Szabó 2013: 201)   58 Figure 15. Taxonomy (C-­relation) (Seto 1999: 93)   61 Figure 16. Partonomy (E-­relation) (Seto 1999: 93)    62 Figure 17. Figures of speech   70 Figure 18. Rubin’s vase (1915)   84 Figure 19. Selected common attributes and family resemblances of the category bird (Ungerer and Schmid 1996: 30). Reproduced with permission from the authors   90 Figure 20. Conceptual prominence of target meaning (Panther and Thornburg 2004: 106). Reproduced with permission from the authors   94



ix

Figure 21. Conceptually prominent target meaning (Panther and Thornburg 2004: 109). Reproduced with permission from the authors   95 Figure 22. Conceptually prominent source meaning (Panther and Thornburg 2004: 108). Reproduced with permission from the authors   96 Figure 23. Source-­in-­target metonymy (Ruiz de Mendoza (2003) and Ruiz de Mendoza and Pérez-­Hernández (2003)). Reproduced with permission from the authors   104 Figure 24. Target-­in-­source metonymy (Ruiz de Mendoza (2003) and Ruiz de Mendoza and Pérez-­Hernández (2003)). Reproduced with permission from the authors   104 Figure 25. Metonymic backgrounding: source-­in-­target metonymy (source highlighted, target backgrounded)   111 Figure 26. Positive end of the scale for the whole scale   115 Figure 27. Metonymic backgrounding – target-­in-­source metonymy (source highlighted, target hidden)   117 Figure 28. The first metonymic inference. The source (police officer) activates the “dummy” target (danger) and conceals the “real” target (stupidity)   120 Figure 29. The second metonymic inference. The source (police officer) activates the “real” target (stupidity)   120

x

Figure 30. visit at the doctor’s office scenario (the “dummy” target) highlighted and betrayal scenario (the “real” target) concealed (source: stages 2 and 3)   121 Figure 31. betrayal scenario (the “real” target) highlighted (source: stage 3)   122 Figure 32. Snake pretending to be a paddling pool (by Canary Pete). Reproduced with permission from the author   122 Figure 33. Thanatosis – Virginia opossum (photo by Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife). Reproduced with permission from the author   124 Figure 34. Little Albert showing signs of distress at the sight of Watson’s Santa Claus beard (copyright free – public domain)   126 Figure 35. Kate Moss and Mark Wahlberg in a CK jeans advertisement   127 Figure 36. Carlsberg beer advertised as part of the watching football scenario   128 Figure 37. The food category   138 Figure 38. The meal domain (e.g. (English) breakfast)   138 Figure 39. Organization and class (Seto 1999: 102)   139 Figure 40. Marlboro cigarettes juxtaposed with a cowboy (metonymically evoking freedom)   140



xi

Figure 41. Metonymic development of the metaphoric source (Ruiz de Mendoza and Pérez-­Hernández 2003: 43). Reproduced with permission from the author   142 Figure 42. The genus to species transfer (egg = chicken egg)   144 Figure 43. The synecdochic genus to species relation (egg = chicken egg) and the metonymic totum pro parte relation (egg = shell)   145 Figure 44. The metaphoric relation (egg > eggplant), the synecdochic relation (genus to species) and the metonymic relation (totum pro parte)   146 Figure 45. A poster saying: Have your say (= Polish: “cast a vote”) before beetroots take it (the right to have your say/cast a vote) away from you (by Parlament Studentów Rzeczypospolitej Polskiej). Reproduced with permission from the author   147 Every effort has been made to trace copyright holders and to obtain their permission for the use of copyright materials. The author and the publishing house would be very grateful for notification of any corrections that should be incorporated in future reprints or editions of this book.

Tables

Table 1. Goodness-­of-­example ratings of the category furniture (informants: American students)   100 Table 2. Goodness-­of-­example ratings of the category möbel (furniture) (German-­speaking informants)   101

Acknowledgements

During the slow and painstaking development of this book I have accumulated many debts of gratitude, which I would like to acknowledge here. First and foremost, I am deeply indebted to Professor Aleksander Szwedek for being my tutelary spirit throughout this project. I would not have accomplished it without his invaluable guidance and encouragement. I would like to thank Professor Karl Wood, for kindly proofreading the manuscript and for his expert comments and suggestions. I am also very grateful to Professor Elżbieta Tabakowska, Professor Brigitte Nerlich, and Professor Zoltán Kövecses, for inspiring and helping me in all sorts of ways. Last but not least I would like to thank my family. I am grateful to my beloved wife Marzenka for being there for me at all times, for raising my spirits during my fits of depression, and for her invaluable advice on various linguistic matters. My thanks also go to my wonderful, understanding kids: Joasia and Michał for letting me cheat them of playing and reading time. Naturally, I assume alone full responsibility for all the remaining shortcomings in this book.

Typographical conventions

Throughout this book, the following typographical conventions will be observed: • italics will be used for linguistic examples, for instance: She is just a pretty face, • small capitals will be used for categories, concepts, or conceptual domains involved in metonymic (or metaphoric) mappings, for example, the face for the person (i.e. face will refer to the linguistic (graphic and phonological) item, whereas face will “stand for” the mental representation or domain used in a metonymy (or metaphor)), • occasionally, in order to differentiate between domains and subdomains/facets, [square brackets] will be used for subdomains/facets, for example, book and [text] (one of the subdomains/facets of book), • a question mark (?) in front of a sentence will point to its dubious acceptability, • a double question mark (??) in front of a sentence will mean either that a sentence is incorrect or that its acceptability is extremely dubious, • lexical and grammatical categories will be given in [square brackets], for example, [noun], • translations into English will be given in ‘single quotation marks’, for example, hinter (‘behind’), • single underlining will be used for emphasis, • words or phrases of Latin origin will be italicized, for example, in praesentia. These conventions will be followed throughout the work, with the exception of direct quotations from other sources, where the conventions used by the author of the original text will be preserved.

Introduction

The theoretical framework of this book is provided by the school of thought commonly known as Cognitive Linguistics.1 Cognitive Linguistics is now a coherent, identifiable approach, which grew out of the work of a number of scholars active in the 1970s and 1980s, who investigated the relation of language and mind. The establishment of the approach was marked by the organization of the first International Cognitive Linguistics Conference (held in 1989 in Duisburg, Germany), the foundation of the International Cognitive Linguistic Association, as well as the conception of the journal Cognitive Linguistics (first published in 1990). The major theoretical foundations of Cognitive Linguistics were laid by Charles Fillmore (e.g. in Frames and the Semantics of Understanding (1985)), George Lakoff (e.g. in Women Fire and Dangerous Things (1987)) and Ronald Langacker (e.g. in the two volumes of Foundations of Cognitive Grammar (1987, 1991) or in Concept Image and Symbol (1990)). For many, however, the publication that actually launched the cognitivist movement is George Lakoff and Mark Johnson’s Metaphors We Live By (1980).2 In this work Lakoff and Johnson showed that metaphor is not merely an artful rhetorical device but an important cognitive mechanism which structures “the way we think, what we experience and what we do every day” (1980: 3). Metaphor is for most people a device of the poetic imagination and the rhetorical flourish – a matter of extraordinary rather than ordinary language. Moreover, metaphor is typically viewed as characteristic of language alone, a matter of words rather than thought or action. For this reason, most people think they can get along perfectly well without metaphor. We have found, on the contrary, that metaphor is pervasive in everyday life, not just in language but in thought and action. Our ordinary conceptual system, in terms of which we both think and act, is fundamentally metaphorical in nature.

1 2

By Cognitive Linguistics the author means the second generation of cognitive science, as described, for example, by Lakoff (1987: XI–­XVII) or Lakoff and Johnson (1999: 77). Cf. Janssen and Redecker 1999: 1.

2 Introduction

The enormous popularity of Lakoff and Johnson’s work resulted in a wave of scholarly interest in metaphor. According to van Noppen and Hols (1990) the number of publications related to metaphor only from 1985 to 1990 is about 3,500. For a time metaphor received so much scholarly attention in the field that another equally, if not more, important cognitive mechanism – metonymy – went virtually unnoticed. Initially, Lakoff and Johnson, as well as their numerous followers, paid little attention to the fact that metonymy is, similarly to metaphor, “pervasive in everyday life” and that “our ordinary conceptual system, in terms of which we both think and act, is fundamentally” not only “metaphorical” but also, if not mainly, metonymical “in nature.”3 This oversight is currently being redressed by linguists and metonymy is beginning to receive the scholarly attention it deserves (cf. Lakoff (1987), Goossens (1990), Croft (1993), Seto (1995, 1999), Panther and Radden (1999), Barcelona (2003), Ruiz de Mendoza (2003), Panther and Thornburg (2003, 2007), Dirven and Pörings (2003), Haser (2005), Kosecki (2005), Panther, Thornburg and Barcelona (2009), Nerlich (2010), Barnden (2010), Benczes, Barcelona and Ruiz de Mendoza (2011), Wojciechowska (2012), Gonzálvez-­ García, Peña Cervel and Pérez-­Hernández (2013), Barcelona (2014), Díaz-­ Vera (2015), or Littlemore (2015)). The present study is part of the current trend which aims at helping metonymy shake off its “Cinderella-­status.” In general, the aims of this book are: • to organize and critically analyse the various theories concerning the definition of metonymy that have been advanced in the literature to date, • to show that metonymy is a ubiquitous phenomenon not only in the lexicon but also in grammar and above all in conceptual structure,4 3 4

In Lakoff and Johnson’s book (1980) only one chapter (out of 30) is dedicated to metonymy. The ubiquity of metaphor and, perhaps also metonymy, was noted a long time ago, for example, in 1730 by Dumarsais in Des Tropes ou des differents sens. It is obviously hardly surprising since, as Nerlich and Clarke note, “[m]etonymy has been studied for at least two thousand years by rhetoricians [and] for two hundred years by historical semanticists” (2001a: 245). Still, the ubiquity, if mentioned, normally referred only to lexical ubiquity.

Introduction

3

• to demonstrate that although metonymy and synecdoche are similar, in that they are both in praesentia relations, they differ in terms of the type of conceptual structure in which they occur and thus synecdoche should not be treated as a mere subtype of metonymy, • to show that metonymy is a prototypical, heterogeneous category, and that such part-­whole relations as facetization or zone activation should not be excluded from its scope, • to discuss the role and importance of metonymy in communication and cognition, and to stress the functions of metonymy that would seem to have been overlooked thus far, • to demonstrate that the classification of a given linguistic expression as metaphoric, metonymic or synecdochic, may, for various reasons, turn out difficult if not impossible. This book has been divided into four chapters. Chapter 1 presents the differences between the classical and cognitive approaches to metonymy. Section 1.1 shows that metonymy is not a mere figure of speech, but a highly structured cognitive mechanism which is by no means limited to language. The fact that metonymy is a conceptual phenomenon rather than a purely linguistic matter seems to be now universally acknowledged (e.g. Lakoff (1987), Taylor (1995), Panther and Radden (1999), Barcelona (2003), Ruiz de Mendoza (2003), Burkhardt and Nerlich (2010), Díaz-­Vera (2015), Littlemore (2015)) and this section aims at organizing the supporting evidence. Section 1.2 shows that metonymy is not based on substitution and presents other theories concerning the relationship between the metonymic source and target. In Section 1.3 the classical and cognitive approach to contiguity are compared. This section is also a contribution to the discussion continued in Chapter 4 on the unfeasibility of establishing a clear-­cut distinction between metonymy and metaphor. Chapter 2 deals with the scope of metonymy. Section 2.1 presents the similarities and differences between metaphor and metonymy. Section 2.2 draws on the works of Burkhardt (1996), Seto (1995, 1999), Nerlich and Clarke (1999), and Burkhardt and Nerlich (2010), and argues that metonymy and synecdoche differ in terms of the type of conceptual structure in which they occur and thus should be treated as different phenomena.

4 Introduction

Section 2.3 offers a critique of the theory put forward by Panther and Thornburg (2004, 2007) concerning the need to constrain the scope of metonymy based on the contingency criterion. Section 2.4 is also a critical analysis of the views presented, for example, by Paradis (2003, 2004, 2005a, 2005b) or Kosecki (2006), according to which facetization and zone activation should be excluded from metonymy. Section 2.5 demonstrates that metonymy is a heterogeneous category with more and less prototypical members. The section also shows that there is hardly any consensus among researchers as to how the prototypicality should be understood. In Section 2.5 it has been argued that the term whole, in part-­whole relations, is misleading and should not be understood as the whole ICM as such, but merely as some more inclusive part of the ICM.5 Thus, it has been suggested that the infelicitous name the part for the whole should be changed to metonymic expansion. It has been argued that, alternatively, the part for the whole relation could be treated as an element of a double metonymic relation (a source-­in-­target metonymy by necessity followed by a target-­in-­source metonymy). Section 2.6 deals with the implications of Barcelona’s (2003a) and Langacker’s (1990) observations concerning the ubiquity of metonymy for the traditional figurative-­literal distinction. Langacker and Barcelona suggest that most, if not all, linguistic expressions are by nature metonymic. In this light, it is argued that it would probably be more accurate to classify linguistic expressions according to the degree of salience or centrality of the target rather than figurativeness and literalness. Chapter 3 is devoted to the role and importance of metonymy in communication and focuses on the function of metonymy which seems to have been overlooked in Cognitive Linguistic research to date, that is, backgrounding. The notion of metonymic highlighting has been described in the literature, for example by Croft (2003). Surprisingly enough, however, the reverse, equally important, conceptual effect metonymy helps us achieve, has to date received little scholarly attention. It is suggested that metonymic backgrounding may take on the following forms:

5

The observation also holds for most synecdochic specific to generic relations.

Introduction

5

1. backgrounding the target by the source (discussed in Section 3.1), 2. backgrounding the “real” target by the “dummy” target (discussed in Section 3.2). In the first form the, otherwise backgrounded, source meaning is highlighted (it becomes the figure) and diverts the focus of attention from the target meaning. The first form of metonymic backgrounding may take an “upward” or a “downward” orientation. In the “upward” oriented relation, in order to obscure the target, a peripheral element of the frame tends to be selected as the source. In the “downward” oriented relation, on the other hand, a more inclusive (opaque) domain is selected for the source in order to cloak the target in ambiguity. The other form of backgrounding (discussed in Section 3.2) consists in highlighting the “dummy target” in order to obscure the real one. Section 3.3 shows how metonymic thinking is used to manipulate the semantic content. Namely, the section shows how a “foreign” element may be incorporated into a conceptual structure and then evoke the structure as a whole. Chapter 4 discusses some problematic issues concerning the distinction between metonymy, metaphor, and synecdoche. Section 4.1 demonstrates that, under a very broad understanding of contiguity presented for example by Barnden (2010), the difference between similarity and contiguity and, consequently, between metaphor and metonymy, may become blurred. Section 4.2 demonstrates that the classification of a given expression as metaphoric, metonymic, and synecdochic is only possible from an individual’s subjective perspective. Finally, Section 4.3 deals with examples in which metonymy, metaphor, and synecdoche operate together and shows that even a subjectively based classification of a given linguistic expression may be difficult.

Chapter 1

Metonymy: The name and definition

The name metonymy is derived from the Greek μετωνυμία (metōnymía) and literally means a change of name.1 The definitions of metonymy presented in the sources which represent a more traditional understanding of the phenomenon seem to reflect what the name implies. For example, according to the Encyclopaedia Britannica (1985), metonymy is a figure of speech in which the name of an object or concept is replaced with a word closely related to or suggested by the original.

Webster’s Third New International Dictionary (1971) defines metonymy as a figure of speech that consists in using the name of one thing for that of something else with which it is associated.

And according to the Concise Oxford Dictionary of Linguistics (Third Edition) (2014), metonymy is a figure of speech in which a word or expression normally or strictly used of one thing is used of something physically or otherwise associated with it.

The traditional definition of metonymy is thus composed of three elements: 1. metonymy operates on names of things, 2. metonymy involves the substitution of the name of one thing for that of another thing,

1

From μετά, metá, “after, beyond, changed” and -ωνυμία, -ōnymía, a suffix used to name figures of speech (Oxford English Dictionary 1989).

8 Chapter 1

3. the two things are closely related and the relationship between them is often located in the world of reality.2 Such an understanding of metonymy has been challenged by Cognitive Linguistics, which makes the following assumptions:3 1. metonymy is not only a linguistic matter, but more importantly a conceptual phenomenon, 2. metonymy is a cognitive process (in a metonymic model one concept is not merely substituted for another one, but appears to be understood by means of its relation to the other concept), 3. metonymy operates within an idealized cognitive model (contiguity relationships need not be physical, but can be conceptual only).4 These assumptions are reflected in the definition proposed by Kövecses and Radden (1998: 39): Metonymy is a cognitive process in which one conceptual entity, the vehicle, provides mental access to another conceptual entity, the target, within the same domain or ICM.

As is evident, there are substantial conceptual differences between the traditional and cognitive approaches to metonymy. These differences merit discussion in greater detail.5

2 3

4 5

The definition by the Concise Oxford Dictionary of Linguistics (2014) presented above is different in that respect and suggests there may also be other forms of contiguity apart from the physical one. For example, Lakoff and Johnson (1980), Langacker (1984, 1987, 1990, and 2008), Lakoff (1987), Lakoff and Turner (1989), Kövecses and Radden (1998), Koch (1999), Panther and Thornburg (2004 and 2007), Barcelona (2003(a, b, c)), Panther, Thornburg and Barcelona (2009), Nerlich (2010), Benczes, Barcelona and Ruiz de Mendoza (2011), Gonzálvez-­García, Peña Cervel and Pérez-­Hernández (2013), Barcelona (2014), Díaz-­Vera (2015), or Littlemore (2015)). For a definition of and discussion on Idealized Cognitive Models see Section 1.3.1. The difference between the two approaches is mentioned, for example, by The Cambridge Dictionary of Linguistics (2013):

Metonymy: The name and definition

9

1.1 Metonymy: A figure of speech or a figure of the mind? In the traditional approach metonymy is perceived as a phenomenon limited to language, especially literary language, which merely operates on names of things. According to the cognitive view, however, metonymy is a natural way of cognizing for humans and does not even need to be related to language (cf. Kwiatkowska 2007). It is noteworthy that in Kövecses and Radden’s definition of metonymy (1998: 39) quoted above, language is not mentioned at all.6 The definition suggests that metonymy is a mental operation which may, but does not have to be, realized in language. This is probably why, metonymy seems to be also used by other animate beings which, as Chomsky claims, may not be able to acquire even the barest rudiments of language (2006: 58).7 1.1.1 Pre-­linguistic and non-­linguistic metonymy In Metaphors We Live By (1980), Lakoff and Johnson noted that people not only speak, but, more importantly, think metonymically, and metonymies used in language are merely reflections of some basic cognitive mechanism. They illustrated their point in the following way: If you ask me to show you a picture of my son and I show you a picture of his face, you will be satisfied. You will consider yourself to have seen a picture of him. But if I show you a picture of his body without his face, you will consider it strange and

6

7

In traditional rhetoric [metonymy is] a figure of speech whereby entities are referred to by means of expressions denoting something closely associated with them. In cognitive linguistics metonymy is considered a central component of conceptual organization. (author’s emphasis)

Lakoff notes the same thing regarding metaphor.

[T]he metaphor is not just a matter of language, but of thought and reason. The language is secondary. The mapping is primary, in that it sanctions the use of source domain language and inference patterns for target domain concepts. (1993: 208, author’s emphasis)

For a discussion on metonymy and synecdoche in animals see Section 1.1.1 on pre-­ linguistic and non-­linguistic metonymy and Section 2.2.2 on synecdoche.

10 Chapter 1 will not be satisfied. You might even ask, “But what does he look like?” Thus the metonymy the face for the person is not merely a matter of language. (1980: 37)

As Radden and Kövecses note, the fact that we “derive the basic information about a person from the person’s face” is, in our culture, “reflected in the tradition of portraits in painting and photography” (1999: 18). Caricaturists, for example, usually concentrate on the face of the depicted person only. They present the rest of the body as either disproportionately small or they do not depict it at all (see Figure 1).8

Figure 1. Shakespeare caricature (by Court Jones, 2008). Reproduced with permission from the author

8

Source: .

Metonymy: The name and definition

11

The face is, at least in many contexts, the most salient part of the human body and thus often comes to activate the body as a whole.9 This does not mean, however, that other, less important (at least at first glance) parts cannot play such a role. Recovering wholes from parts, sometimes even from the most peripheral ones, is one of the most basic cognitive abilities without which life would probably be impossible. As Kwiatkowska explains (2007: 297–298): [w]e have a limited field of vision, and an object may extend beyond it, so we only see its portion, we cannot view an object from all its sides at once. […] We see the spine of a book standing on a shelf, someone’s leg sticking out from under a blanket, a photograph which shows only a person’s face. We look out of the window and see a small fragment of the street, a bus momentarily coming into the frame to disappear from view again. Yet we are all able to infer automatically from this partial information that there is a complete book standing on the shelf, and that a whole person is sleeping under the blanket; we do not interpret the photograph as showing a cut-­off head, or conclude that the street is ten metres long and that the bus can cover its route in several seconds.

The phenomenon described above by Kwiatkowska had earlier been noted by psychologists. Albert Michotte, for example, formulated the theory of amodal perception, according to which, we tend to fully perceive physical structures even though they are only partially visible (Michotte, Thinés, and Crabbé 1964). Nanay (2007: 1331), who also studied the phenomenon, noted that typically only three sides of a non-­transparent cube are visible. The other three are not visible – we are aware of them “amodally.” The same goes for houses or for any ordinary objects. We perceive the back side of any (non-­transparent) object only amodally. It is very difficult to come up with a scenario, where one perceives, but does not perceive amodally.

At the beginning of the twentieth century a similar ability was also noted by Gestalt psychologists, who observed that we often experience things that are not part of our simple sensations and formulated a few principles

9

See also Section 2.5 for a discussion on the pars pro toto relations.

12 Chapter 1

of Gestalt systems. One of them is emergence. The principle is well demonstrated by the Dog Picture (Figure 2) which depicts a Dalmatian dog sniffing the ground. The Dalmatian is recognized by identifying its parts (ears, head, paws, etc.) and then inferring its shape from those parts.

Figure 2. The Dog Picture (Marr 1982: 101). Reproduced with permission from the author

Another Gestalt principle – reification is, as Favera and Medeiros note, “the constructive or generative aspect of perception whereby the experienced percept contains more explicit spatial information than the sensory stimulus on which it is based” (2007: 842). A classic example which illustrates the above-­mentioned principle is the Kanizsa Triangle (Figure 3). The Kanizsa Triangle is a figure which consists of three black circles with equal wedges cut out of them facing the centre point and three black angles on a white background (Nanay 2007: 1334). Many observers, however, looking at the

Metonymy: The name and definition

13

figure would probably “see” a white equilateral triangle on top of three black disks (ignoring the gaps and completing contour lines).10,11

Figure 3. The Kanizsa Triangle (public domain) 10

11

The perception of the figure has been thoroughly examined experimentally. Lee and Nguyen note that “although there is no activation of the cells in the retina that would correspond to the sides of the triangle, we do find such corresponding activation patterns in the primary visual cortex, which is the earliest stage of visual processing” (qtd in Nanay 2007: 1334). The phenomenon is also called modal completion. Some researchers do not draw a difference between amodal perception and modal completion or complementation (e.g. Noë 2002), whereas others do differentiate. According to Nanay, for example, “in the case of amodal perception, we are aware of objects behind an occluder, whereas in the case of modal completion, we are visually aware of an object in front of inducers” (2007: 1334). Still, as Noë observes (2002), the neural mechanisms responsible for both processes are the same in early vision and they only differ in a very late stage of visual processing.

14 Chapter 1

There is another fundamental principle of gestalt perception, namely the law of prägnanz. According to this principle, we tend to order our experience in a regular, symmetrical, and simple manner. For example, one is likely to perceive a set of dots outlining the shape of a star as a star, rather than simply a set of dots. We are, for example, somehow able to see the shape in Figure 4 as a letter B.12,13

Figure 4. The law of prägnanz (by Boeree). Reproduced with permission from the author 12 13

Source: Boeree (). In Cognitive Linguistics the ability is known as partial sanctioning (Langacker 1987: 65–73). It is based on the idea that we manage to categorize the hardly identical “things” and “events” in the Lebenswelt and doing so we allow a certain degree of tolerance in membership. For example, all figures which have three connecting sides are normally categorized by human beings as triangles, regardless of their shape and size (Glynn 2006: 7).

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All of the above examples demonstrate that the part-­whole schema is a basic cognitive skill rather than a mere linguistic matter.14 As such, it can frequently be found “outside language.” Paintings or photographs, for example, are always partial (they depict only a selected fragment of reality) and are less specific than real-­world objects. In film and TV, the shots (in particular close-­up shots) are often so designed as to make the viewer perform some mental effort to extrapolate a whole from its parts. (Kwiatkowska 2007: 299)

The part-­whole, however, is hardly the only metonymic relation that can be found “outside language.” In fact, so can virtually all others. The psychologist Michael R. Walmann in the Introduction to The Oxford Handbook of Causal Reasoning notes, for example, the importance of causal reasoning. Causal reasoning is one of our most central cognitive competences, enabling us to adapt to the world. Causal knowledge enables us to predict future events, or to diagnose the causes of observed facts. We plan actions and solve problems using knowledge about cause-­effect relations. (2017: 1)

The effect for cause metonymic relation is also very well suited for the visual medium. A terrorist attack or war, for example, will normally be metonymically represented in television news by a series of shots depicting dead bodies, gutted buildings and the like. Nervousness is often represented by shaky hands and anger by redness in the face. Panther and Thornburg (2007: 242) note that from a semiotic perspective, metonymy is related to indexicality. If, for example, Mary has rented a parking space and finds out that her parking space has been taken by

14 It should be pointed out that according to some linguists, the part-­whole relation should not be associated solely with metonymy. According to Paradis (2003, 2005a, 2005b) and Kosecki (2006), for example, one should distinguish between metonymy and other forms of the part-­whole relation, such as partonomy/meronymy, hyponymy, zone activation or facetization. For a more detailed discussion on metonymy and other forms of the part-­whole relation see Section 2.3.

16 Chapter 1 another car, she might become red in the face. An outside observer might interpret this as an index (more specifically, a symptom) that Mary is angry. This metonymic [interpretation] is induced by the bodily reaction for emotion metonymy, which is a special case of the more general effect for cause metonymy.15

The container for content is another relation frequently exploited visually – used, for example, in visual advertising. As Kwiatkowska argues, [c]igarette ads do not show the cigarettes, but their packets, and ads for perfumes do not show the liquid itself, but the container it comes in. There are also bottles standing for alcoholic beverages, containers for milk or soft cheese, jars for facial creams, tubes for toothpaste, boxes for washing powder, and so on. (2007: 302)

The above-­mentioned metonymic relations can also be found in painting, film, or sculpture. Jakobson notes for instance “the manifestly metonymical orientation of cubism” (1971: 92). Let us consider a famous painting by Pablo Picasso, a co-­founder of the Cubist movement (Figure 5).16 The painting, entitled Guernica, depicts the bombing of the city of Guernica in Spain by Spanish Nationalist forces on 26 April 1937, during the Spanish Civil War. The painting provides numerous examples of metonymy: • the flaming buildings and crumbling walls “stand for” the destructive power of war,17 • the shape and posture of the bodies “stand for” protest, • the newspaper print used in the painting “stands for” the way Picasso learned of the massacre, • the broken sword near the bottom of the painting “stands for” the defeat of the people at the hand of their tormentors (Ray 2006: 168–171).

15 16 17

The metonymy could obviously have a linguistic form. As Panther and Thornburg add, “the same observer might also verbalize his thinking by saying Mary is red in the face, thereby metonymically evoking the target content ‘Mary is angry’” (2007: 242). Source: . See also Section 1.2 on the substitution view of metonymy.

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Figure 5. Guernica (1937) by Pablo Picasso

Finally, the painting as a whole is an example of effect for cause metonymy. It does not depict the perpetrators or the air raid itself. Instead, it shows the effect of the raid: dead, injured, dismembered and torn bodies.18 All the above-­mentioned examples refer to the sense of sight. Still, metonymy can also be triggered by other physiological modes of perception such as hearing, taste, smell, or touch.19 If we hear a thunderclap, for instance, we know that it is a sound that normally accompanies an atmospheric discharge and that it may be raining somewhere close by. We can usually recognize an apple only by its taste or smell and we normally recognize a mosquito when it has bitten us or a fly when it sits on the nape of our neck even if we do not see them. As biophysicists and psychologists note, the ability to recover wholes from parts is not characteristic exclusively of humans, but has also developed in other animate beings. For example, Eagleman (2001) and Nieder (2002) have demonstrated that mammals, birds, and insects are able to perceive illusory contours similarly to humans.

18 19

For a discussion on how conceptual metonymies are realized in both static and moving images see, for example, Feng (2017). Amodal perception is not an exclusively visual phenomenon either. Nanay notes, for example, that “when we hold a glass, we are (amodally) aware of those parts of the glass that we do not have any tactile contact with” (2007: 1331).

18 Chapter 1 Illusory contours lack a physical counterpart, but monkeys, cats, owls and bees perceive them as if they were real borders. In all of these species, a neural correlate for such perceptual completion phenomena has been described. The robustness of neuronal responses and the abundance of cells argue that such neurons might indeed represent a neural correlate for illusory contour perception. (Nieder 2002: 249)

Animals then, like humans, seem to associate parts with wholes and fill in the “missing” parts of a picture. Research has also shown that animals are perfectly able to make other mental associations.20 Klein, for example, who has studied the behaviour of crows, notes how surprisingly well the birds have adapted to living in urban environments. In Japan, for example, crows have devised a way of eating things they cannot normally manage to eat because of, for example, shells that are too hard. Crows reportedly swoop down and drop a nut onto a pedestrian crossing in oncoming traffic. Then, they wait for a car to run over the nut. When this happens, crows wait by the curb until the light stops the traffic, then cross to the middle with the pedestrians and grab the nuts.21 As Nerlich (2010: 311) noted, “metonymy is based on our world-­knowledge about space and time, cause and effect [and] part and whole.” The observations made by Jelbert, Cheke, Clayton, and Gray (2014), as well as Klein (2008) suggest that crows have and are perfectly able to use such knowledge. Linguists have made similar observations. Kwiatkowska, for example, claims that animals, when communicating their emotions (such as friendliness, hostility, playfulness, dominance, or aggression) through particular positions of their bodies or body parts, use “sign metonymy of the classical kind, where a form stands for some concept” (2007: 298). Kwiatkowska also argues that animals use other metonymic relations.

20 Jelbert, Cheke, Clayton, and Gray (2014), who studied New Caledonian crows showed that crows are, for example, capable of causal understanding of water displacement. In a series of experiments crows dropped stones into a water-­filled tube to raise the water level and obtain the reward. Earlier (in 2007) a similar experiment was conducted on apes by Mendes, Hanus, and Call (known as the “floating peanut” task), in which apes poured water into a container to obtain out-­of-­reach floating rewards. 21 Source: .

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A cat will appear from nowhere when you open the fridge […], proving that it shares with humans the ability to associate a container with its content […] A dog will run to the door and sit there, all ready to go, the moment he sees his mistress reach for the leash [proving] that he has internalised a script, a scenario of a walk, in which the leash, plays a prominent part.

Some species of animals then, similarly to humans, in order to cope with almost always incomplete information they obtain in the process of perception, make mental associations. In other words, animals, although unable to acquire language, clearly use a phenomenon that one might venture to call without much exaggeration non-­linguistic metonymy.22 Kwiatkowska claims that, [u]nlike the ability to make cross–­domain, i.e. metaphorical mappings (which can probably only be made by humans), the very basic, seemingly inborn cognitive mechanism of metonymy is a sort of cognitive prerequisite that lets animals and humans participate in the processes of recognising the physical world. It involves the ability to perceive part-­whole relations and the very general expectation that entities belong to species/categories, and that they enter into relations with other entities. These cognitive prerequisites are pre-­linguistic, but language obviously started to reflect them when it developed in humans. (2007: 298–299)23

1.1.2 Linguistic metonymy As Kwiatkowska notes in the quote above, the mechanism of metonymy is a “cognitive prerequisite that lets animals and humans participate in the processes of recognising the physical world” which “language obviously 22 Although animals sometimes use very complex ways of communication, there are numerous properties of human language that are clearly beyond their capacity (for a classic discussion on the properties which differentiate human language from other forms of signalling see e.g. Hockett (1960)). 23 Other linguists have arrived at similar conclusions. Panther and Thornburg, for example, claim that such conceptual metonymies as part-­whole, cause-­effect, person-­role, representation-­represented, are “multipurpose conceptual devices not restricted to language but used in other semiotic systems and thought as well” (2004: 94–95, author’s emphasis).

20 Chapter 1

started to reflect.” Such “linguistically reflected” metonymies are defined by Panther and Thornburg in the following way: The source content and the target content of metonymy […] should be understood in [their] broadest sense, including lexical concepts (words) but also thoughts (propositional contents). When the source content is expressed by a linguistic sign (a lexeme or a syntagmatic combination of lexemes), one can speak of a linguistic metonymy. (2007: 240)

Linguistic metonymy has been divided here into two categories. The division was inspired by Gibbs (1999: 69), who suggests a distinction between “processing metonymic language” (understanding utterances like Paris has dropped hemlines this year) and “metonymic processing of language” (“understanding the gaps in narrative by inferring some rich source of information, like a script, from the simple mention of some salient part of that language”).24 a) Processing metonymic language Linguistic instances of metonymy provide ample evidence in support of its conceptual bases. First, as mentioned above, linguistic metonymies are reflections of some cognitive phenomena rather than mere artful deviations from the ordinary significations of words. One of such phenomena reflected by linguistic metonymies is the fact that some less inclusive part may evoke some more inclusive part (or, as some linguists claim, the whole). The face, for example, being, in many contexts in our culture, the most salient part 24 The division seems to be in accordance, at least to a certain extent, with Warren’s (2003), who suggests there are two types of metonymy: a) referential metonymy (where the source expression brings about (superficial) violation of truth conditions), for example: • She married money. [rich person] • Give me a hand. [help] (2003: 115) b) propositional (where the source expression does not bring about violation of truth conditions), for example: • A: How did you get to the airport? B: I waved down a taxi. [A taxi took me there] (Gibbs qtd in Warren 2003: 114) • It won’t happen while I still breathe. [live] (Halliday qtd in Warren 2003: 114)

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of the human body, often comes to “stand for” the body as a whole.25 As Lakoff and Johnson note (1980: 37), we seem to think and function in terms of the face for the person metonymy. This becomes evident if we consider the following exchange: (1) a. Normal: b. Strange:

A: Is she pretty? B: Yes, but she’s got bandy legs. A: Is she pretty? B: Yes, but she’s got an ugly face.26

If we did not think metonymically, Examples (1a) and (1b) would both sound equally natural (the girl in question is pretty, but not flawless). Since, however, we do function in terms of the above-­mentioned metonymy and people’s faces normally “stand for” the people as wholes, Example (1b) may seem, at least in many contexts, illogical (She is pretty, but she is not). As Radden and Kövecses note, the face for the person is “part of our everyday way of thinking about people” (1999: 18) and thus it seems only natural that it has also become part of our everyday way of speaking about people. There are numerous linguistic examples of the face for the person metonymy. Let us consider a few of them. (2)

I was greeted by smiling faces (= I was greeted by people who smiled).

(3)

I’d like to talk to you face-­to-­face instead of on the phone (= I’d like to talk to you in person).

(4)

I don’t like the plans, but I’d find it hard to tell him to his face (= I’d find it hard to tell him in person) (The Cambridge International Dictionary of English).

25 26

See also Section 2.5 for a discussion on the pars pro toto relations. It may be argued that the sentence: She’s pretty, but she’s got an ugly face is semantically well formed and the metonymic link between face and person, although strong, can be explicitly cancelled without contradiction. The example used here is not supposed to suggest otherwise, but only to show that the relationship is so strong that in many contexts the concept person is automatically activated by the lexeme face.

22 Chapter 1

(5)

Goodall makes the top 200 – but his face doesn’t fit for Davis Cup (= Goodall’s appearance or personality are not suitable for Davis Cup) (Dickson, The Daily Mail, 27 August 2008).

Also the names of a large recruitment company Face-­Fit Group27 and an enormously popular social networking website Facebook28 are based on the face for the person metonymy. Second, since metonymies are reflections of some general cognitive phenomena they are not random, arbitrary occurrences and should not be treated as isolated instances. Radden and Kövecses note that “metonymy, like metaphor, […] is subject to general and systematic principles” (1999: 18). Lakoff and Johnson made a list of metonymic types motivated by general cognitive principles (1980: 38–39), for example, (6) the part for the whole • Get your butt over here. • We don’t hire longhairs. (7) producer for product • He bought a Ford. • He’s got a Picasso in his den. (8) object used for user • The sax has the flu today. • The gun he hired wanted fifty grand. (9) controller for controlled • Nixon bombed Hanoi. • Napoleon lost at Waterloo.

27 It is said that if someone’s face fits, their appearance or/and personality are suitable for a job or other activity. 28 The website probably took its name from books called “face books” sometimes given to students by university administrations at the start of the academic year. The “face books” were supposed to help students get to know each other better.

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(10) institution for people responsible • Exxon has raised its prices again. • You will never get the university to agree to that. (11) the place for the institution • The White House isn’t saying anything. • Paris is introducing longer skirts this season. (12) the place for the event • Let’s not let Thailand become another Vietnam. Third, in a metonymic model, the target is not merely substituted for the source, but both (the target and the source) are conceptually present.29 As Panther and Thornburg note, [i]n She is just a pretty face, the noun phrase a pretty face is not used referentially but predicatively; as well, it is not just a substitute expression for a pretty person but also highlights the prettiness of the person’s face, from which the prettiness of the person can be inferred. Thus, the above sentence expresses more content than “She is just a pretty person.” (2007: 238)

Thus, in a metonymic relationship the target seems to be conceptualized “by means of its relation” to the source (Lakoff and Johnson 1980: 39). That clearly would not be the case if metonymy was merely a linguistic phenomenon. In the following example: (13) The Times hasn’t arrived at the press conference yet (1980: 36), The Times does not simply refer to some reporter or other, but it is used “to suggest the importance of the institution the reporter represents.” The above-­mentioned sentence means, therefore, something different than: (14) Steve Roberts (who may be the Times reporter in question) has not yet arrived for the press conference.

29 For a more detailed discussion of the issue of substitution see Section 1.2.

24 Chapter 1

Fourth, metonymy cannot possibly be a linguistic matter (it cannot be a substitution of one name for another) since the target of a metonymic relation sometimes does not even have a name of its own. It is noteworthy that in Panther and Thornburg’s definition of linguistic metonymy, given at the beginning of this section, the target concept is not mentioned at all.30 If we say, for example, that The Times hasn’t arrived at the press conference yet, we do not need to know the name of the journalist in question. Fifth, if metonymies were mere artful deviations from the ordinary significations of words, they would probably have to be used consciously and deliberately. However, most metonymies appear to be used unconsciously and automatically. What is more, a metonymic mode of expression is sometimes so natural that it cannot even be replaced with the literal one. For example in: (15) Your dog bit my cat (Langacker 1990: 190), the “literal” mode of expression (the dog’s teeth) cannot be used.31 Finally, thanks to our ability to think metonymically, we create, are able to understand, and even perceive as more natural certain seemingly anomalous utterances. According to Gernsbacher for example, “people rate as more natural and are faster to understand […] pair[s] of sentences with ‘conceptual anaphors’ than they do pairs of sentences with appropriate […] pronouns” (qtd in Gibbs 1999: 68). What this means is that although pronouns must seemingly agree in person, number and case with their antecedents, owing to our ability to think metonymically this is not always so. Let us consider the following example: (16) a. Natural:  I need to call the garage (where my car was being serviced). They said they’d have it ready by five o’clock.

30 31

According to Panther and Thornburg, one can speak of a linguistic metonymy “when the source content is expressed by a linguistic sign (a lexeme or a syntagmatic combination of lexemes)” (2007: 240, author’s emphasis). For a discussion on the figurative-­literal distinction see Section 2.6.

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b. Unnatural: I need to call the garage (where my car was being serviced). It said it would have it ready by five o’clock.

The second exchange sounds unnatural because the garage (a singular entity) metonymically refers to the people working in the garage (some conceptual set). b) Metonymic processing of language Our articulatory system is relatively slow and we are normally only able to produce about seven syllables or eighteen segments per second (Levinson 2000: 382). Therefore, in order to accelerate the communication process, we encode only the strict (but sufficient) minimum of information and leave the recovery of the intended meaning to the hearer. The recovery of the intended meaning, as for example Barcelona (2003a, 2003b) or Panther and Thornburg (2004) note, is often guided by conceptual metonymy. To use Barcelona’s words (2003b: 97), “metonymies often provide ‘ready-­made’ pointers towards plausible inferential pathways in the interpretation of […] any kind of discourse.” If we agree that inference, which is by definition a conceptual process, is to a large extent guided by metonymy, then we should also accept that metonymy is a conceptual rather than purely linguistic phenomenon. Let us at this point analyse a few examples of metonymically guided inference. Just as we are amodally aware of the parts of physical structures which are not visible (Michotte 1964), we are also normally aware of or able to recover the entire idealized cognitive model (or structured scenario) from one of its elements.32,33 For example, we are usually able to infer the entire ICM of travelling from one place to another from a mere mention of one of its parts. The ICM of travelling from one place to another usually involves the following events: 32 33

As described in Section 1.1.1 on pre-­linguistic and non-­linguistic metonymy. For a discussion on idealized cognitive models, frames and other types of conceptual structures see Section 1.3.1.

26 Chapter 1 a. b. c. d. e.

Precondition – you have access to the vehicle, Embarkation – you get into the vehicle and start it up, Centre – you drive (row, fly, etc.), Finish – you park and get out, End point – you are at your destination. (Lakoff 1987: 78)

Normally, if we want to say that we got somewhere and completed the above-­mentioned series of activities, we mention only one element of the scenario which metonymically evokes all the other parts. For example, B’s answer in: (17) A: How did you get to the airport? B: I waved down a taxi. would normally be understood as “I hailed a taxi, had it stop and pick me up, and then I had it take me to the airport” (Gibbs 1999: 67). In the brief exchange, the precondition “stands for” the whole model.34 Still, other parts of the model, might also be used in the same way. B might answer, for instance: (18) I drove my car, where the centre would “stand for” the whole model, or: (19) I hopped on a bus (Lakoff 1987: 79), where the embarkation would evoke the rest of the model. Radden and Kövecses give other examples of the same sort (1999: 33): (20) They went to the altar, where an initial element “stands for” the whole ICM and: (21) Our teacher had 100 essays to grade,

34 See also Section 2.5 for a discussion on the pars pro toto relations.

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where the final element “stands for” an ICM involving reading, correcting and marking the papers. Owing to the same metonymic relationship (part for whole), we are able to “make meaningful sense of seemingly anomalous and disconnected statements in texts” (Gibbs 1999: 68).35 Let us consider the following example: (22)

John was hungry and went into a restaurant. He ordered a lobster from the waiter. It took a long time to prepare. Because of this he only put down a small tip when he left.

The above-­mentioned story is seemingly incoherent and seemingly there is no connection between its parts. Nevertheless, activating our knowledge of the activities we normally perform in a restaurant we are able to fill in the gaps in the story and make sense of it. As Ungerer and Schmid note (1996: 216), the script may be so powerful that when we form a mental representation of the story we do not even notice that the important eating scene is not expressed linguistically. The potential of scripts, and incidentally also frames, to ensure that the right inferences are made is especially important in face-­to-­face conversation. Here speakers often rely very much on the hearer’s knowledge of a script when they leave out details or whole stages in their description of an event.

A reverse metonymic relationship (whole for part) helps us make sense out of seemingly nonsensical tautological statements. Let us consider the following brief exchange between a mother and a father: (23) Mother: Did the children ever clean up their rooms? Father: Well, boys will be boys (Gibbs 1999: 73).

35

In the same way we are able to infer the shape of an object from some of its disconnected parts. The principle (called emergence by Gestalt psychologists) is demonstrated in Section 1.1.1 by the Dog Picture (Figure 2).

28 Chapter 1

Although the phrase boys will be boys seems to contribute no new information to the conversation, it is easily understandable and does convey a particular meaning. To comprehend it, we resort to our knowledge (in the case of boys to their stereotypical image) and on such a basis we create a possible interpretation of the phrase (e.g. “boys will be unruly and it is often difficult to get them to do what you want”). In this exchange the father “refers to a general category (boys) to refer to specific salient parts or attributes of that category (unruly behaviour)” (Gibbs and McCarrell qtd in Gibbs 1999: 73). Similarly, the whole for part metonymy helps us comprehend neologisms, such as (24) He is going to OJ his way out of his marriage (Gibbs 1999: 65). In order to understand what is meant by OJ, we have to, as in the case of other examples mentioned above, resort to our experience and knowledge of the world. O. J. Simpson was a famous American football player and actor accused of murdering his wife. Drawing a metonymic inference based on the above-­mentioned salient fact from Simpson’s life (alleged murder), one can easily interpret He is going to OJ his way out of his marriage as He is going to murder his wife in order to get out of his marriage. 1.1.3 Final remarks As can be seen above, there is abundant evidence in support of the claim that metonymy is a conceptual phenomenon rather than a mere linguistic matter. Let us now recapitulate the evidence. 1. Metonymic relations such as part-­whole, cause-­effect, or content-­container are multipurpose conceptual devices used not only in language but above all in thought. 2. Some species of animals, although unable to acquire language, also use the above-­mentioned metonymic relations.

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3. Metonymy, being a conceptual phenomenon, is frequently used “outside language.” 4. Linguistic instances of metonymy are reflections of general cognitive phenomena and as such they are not random, arbitrary occurrences, but are subject to some systematic principles. 5. In a metonymic relationship both the source and the target are conceptually present. The target then is not substituted by the source, but is conceptualized by means of its relation to the source. 6. Most cases of linguistic metonymy are highly conventionalized and used unconsciously and automatically. 7. In many examples of linguistic metonymy the target does not show up in language. 8. Metonymy is used in reasoning and serves the function of providing understanding. a. We draw inferences about what is meant on the basis of a subpart of an idealized cognitive model (or a structures scenario). b. Thanks to metonymy we are able to create and comprehend novel words and phrases. c. Metonymy and synecdoche help us make approximations and estimate size.36 9. Thanks to our ability to think metonymically, we create, are able to understand, and even perceive as more natural some seemingly anomalous utterances. a. We sometimes perceive as more natural and are faster to understand pronouns, which do not agree in person, number or case with their antecedents. b. We are able to make sense of seemingly incoherent stories. c. We comprehend seemingly nonsensical, tautological statements.

36

See also Section 2.2 on synecdoche.

30 Chapter 1

1.2 Is metonymy based on substitution? As could be seen above, metonymy does not operate on names of things only, but more importantly it is a conceptual phenomenon. Let us now discuss the second element of its definition, that is, the nature of the metonymic shift. 1.2.1 The substitution view The substitution view of metonymy assumes that the name of one thing (the source or vehicle) is used to refer to another thing (the target). The relationship is usually represented by the notation x for y. As Panther and Thornburg note (2007: 238), under this view the source and the target may be considered “equivalent ways of picking out the same referent.” For example, in the sentence Buckingham Palace issued a statement this morning, the place name Buckingham Palace (source) may be said to stand for the British queen or one of her spokespersons (target). Under this view, the source expression indirectly achieves the same referential purpose as the more direct referring expression the Queen.

The substitution view, however, seems to make some sense only if we do not accept the conceptual character of metonymy. For example, it may be said that in the quotation given above formx (Buckingham Palace) is used “instead of ” formy (the British queen). In other words, it may be said that formx (Buckingham Palace) and formy (the British queen) are used to denote the same thing (the British queen (concepty)). Clearly, however, it cannot be said that conceptx (Buckingham Palace) is used for concepty (the British queen). Interestingly enough, this seems to have been overlooked by Panther and Thornburg, who give the following account of the substitution view: Metonymy is often characterized as a “stand for” relation […], a reflection of which is that metonymies are usually represented by the schema x for y, where x represents the source meaning (also called “vehicle”) and y symbolizes the target meaning of the metonymic operation. (2004: 95, author’s emphasis)

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That, however, cannot be the case. If we accepted the substitution view in the form presented in the quote above (where one meaning stands for another meaning), we could only argue that the substitution takes place in the opposite direction (y for x). Namely, that it is concepty (the British queen) that is activated (by formx (Buckingham Palace)) instead of concept conceptx (Buckingham Palace) or in other words concepty (the British queen) replaces or “stands for” conceptx (Buckingham Palace), not the other way round.37 Nonetheless, it might be argued that occasionally, when used for certain cases of referential metonymy, the x for y notation is accurate. For instance, in the example given by Radden and Kövecses (1999: 28) (formx-­conceptx for formy-­conceptx (e.g. UN for United Nations)),38 the source and the target do “achieve the same referential purpose.” Such instances, however, are purely linguistic (two different forms refer to the same concept (lexeme x is used for lexeme y) and it is doubtful whether they really qualify as metonymic.39 Even if we accept that such examples are metonymic, we have to acknowledge that they are relatively rare. In the vast majority of referential metonymies the source and the target are not “equivalent ways of picking out the same referent.” As Warren notes, [i]t is important that we realise that the traditional definition of metonymy, viz. “substituting for the name of a thing the name of an attribute of it or something closely related” (OED) is not correct in that no substitution is necessarily involved. We do not refer to music in I like Mozart, but to music composed by Mozart; we do not refer to water in The bathtub is running over, but to the water in the bathtub (1999: 128).

37

38 39

Interestingly, in The Oxford Handbook of Cognitive Linguistics Panther and Thornburg provide a different account of the substitution view of metonymy and claim that [t]raditionally […] metonymy has been regarded as a stand for relation in which the name of one thing (henceforth, the source or vehicle) is used to refer to another thing (henceforth, the target) with which it is associated or to which it is contiguous. (2007: 237, author’s emphasis)

Radden and Kövecses (1999: 23) use the letters “a” and “b” rather than “x” and “y” – the original notation is: forma-­concepta for formb-­concepta. Radden and Kövecses (1999: 23), in their broad understanding of Idealized Cognitive Models, decide to call such examples metonymies (see also part on Idealized Cognitive Models in this book).

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Along the same lines, Lakoff and Johnson (1980: 36) argue that for example in: (25) The Times hasn’t arrived for the press conference yet,40 The Times is used not only with reference “to some reporter or other, but to suggest the importance of the institution the reporter represents.” Similarly, the painting in the example: (26) He’s got a Picasso in his den, is conceptualized by means of its relation to the painter. As Lakoff and Johnson point out, [w]hen we think of a Picasso, we are not just thinking of a work of art alone, in and of itself. We think of it in terms of its relation to the artist. (1980: 39)

Also Panther and Thornburg argue that in: (27) She is just a pretty face (2007: 238), the noun phrase a pretty face is not only used referentially, but also predicatively. Thus, the noun phrase a pretty face is not a mere substitute for a pretty person, but it also “highlights the prettiness of the person’s face, from which the prettiness of the person can be inferred.” Moreover, apart from the referential level, metonymy can also be found on the predicational and illocutionary levels, where the source and the target hardly refer to the same concept either.41,42 Let us consider an example of predicational metonymy:

40 Examples (25) and (26) are repeated here for convenience. 41 The classification of metonymies into referential, predicational, and illocutionary has been adopted from Panther and Thornburg (2007: 246). 42 As Panther and Thornburg note, “illocutionary acts, especially indirect illocutionary acts, can be analyzed in terms of conceptual frames, scenes, Idealized Cognitive Models, scenarios, and the like. A component of a speech act scenario that is

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(28) A: Is Mike still here? B: No, he had to leave early.43 Here, the source (obligatory action – had to leave) clearly does not denote the same thing as the target (actual action – left). Although the target meaning in B’s answer is probably more prominent than the source meaning (the response makes pragmatic sense only if it receives the metonymically derived reading (left), the target meaning does not obliterate the source meaning. In fact, both the source and the target meaning seem to be conceptually present. Thus, B’s answer not only means that Mike left early, but also that he had to. Similarly, examples of illocutionary metonymies such as (29) Can you lend me your sweater? (30) Would you mind lending me your sweater? (Gibbs 1994: 354) are not simply substitute forms for the direct request (lend me your sweater). In Examples (29) and (30), the source content is probably selected by the speaker to address potential “obstacles” to the satisfaction of his request. Thus, the meaning of the source expression in the above given examples “is relevant to the interpretation process as a whole” (Panther and Thornburg 2007: 247). Panther and Thornburg also argue that the substitution of the target for the source meaning may be seen as “the borderline case where the target meaning has become maximally prominent” (2004: 107).44 Still, there seem to be certain problems with the claim too. First, as mentioned above, it appears that the notation that should be used in such cases is not x for y but y for x (as it is the target meaning y that becomes maximally prominent and “replaces” the source meaning x not the other way round). Second, sufficiently ‘central’ can metonymically evoke other components of the scenario and thereby the scenario as a whole” (2007: 247). 43 This is a paraphrase of Panther and Thornburg’s example: The saxophone player had to leave early (2007: 246). 44 For a discussion on different degrees of foregrounding see Section 1.2.3.

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in such cases (e.g. in historical semantic change), as Riemer (2003) notes, there seems to be no metonymic relation any longer and we can only talk about post-­metonymy. 1.2.2 The additive view If metonymy is not based on substitution, then what is the true nature of the metonymic shift? In an attempt to provide an answer to the question, Radden and Kövecses suggest an interesting alternative. They claim that metonymic relationships “should more adequately be represented by using an additive notation such as x plus y” rather than the substitutive one x for y, since the entities involved in them are interrelated and “form a new, complex meaning” (1999: 19). In a similar vein, Panther and Thornburg (2004: 94) argue that in the example: (31) I need a drink,45 which normally expresses the (adult) speaker’s desire for an alcoholic beverage (rather than, e.g. milk), the meaning “alcoholic” is added as a conceptual modifier to the meaning of drink. The additive view also seems to capture the nature of the metonymic shift better than the substitutive one in Example (28), for instance, where the source meaning (He had to leave early – the obligation sense) is joined with the target meaning (the factuality sense). Nevertheless, the additive view is not flawless. The first problem is that, especially in pars pro toto and totum pro parte metonymies, the meanings are not added to each other. For example, in the sentence: She is just a pretty face, the relation could not be described as face plus

45 This example was initially used by Levinson as an instance of implicature. According to Levinson “lexical items routinely implicate stereotypical pragmatic default readings: What is expressed simply is stereotypically exemplified” (qtd in Panther and Thornburg 2003a: 8).

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person. Such a notation would imply that face is not an integral part of person. Let us consider an example given by Haser (2005: 46): (32) He has brains. which would normally be understood as “he has intelligence.” Haser argues that: the meaning “intelligence” already presupposes the literal meaning of brain(s), hence the formula x plus y does not apply to this example: The non-­literal sense “having intelligence” is not a result of “adding” the meaning “having a brain” to the concept.

Another limitation is that, the additive view does not seem to be very precise. In a metonymic relationship one concept (usually the target) seems to be more prominent than the other.46 Thus giving them both (the source and the target) equal prominence, which seems to be implied by the additive notation (x plus y), does not seem to be accurate. 1.2.3 The source and the target: Different degrees of foregrounding The problem of “equal prominence” seems to have been resolved by Panther and Radden who argue that “both reference point and target are always present as elements of the conceptual frame, but are highlighted to different degrees” (1999: 11). This has also been noted by Panther and Thornburg (2004: 95) who claim that “the crucial criterion for metonymy is not ‘addition’ or ‘substitution’, but the degree of conceptual prominence of the target.”47 They follow Langacker’s assumption (1993: 30) that metonymy is “basically a reference-­point phenomenon […] affording mental access to the desired target.” For example in:

46 For a detailed discussion see Section 2.4 on prototypicality of metonymy 47 The fact that metonymy is better understood as a “reference point,” a vehicle or source that triggers a target meaning has also been shown by Lakoff (1987), Langacker (1993), Kövecses and Radden (1998) and Barcelona (2003).

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(33) The first violin has the flu (Panther and Radden 1999: 9), the source concept (the first violin) evokes the whole knowledge structure to which it belongs (musicians, the notion of music represented in scores, etc.). The source is also immediately associated with the first violinist – the player of the instrument. The “non-­literal” interpretation of the noun phrase the first violin is triggered by the predication has the flu as well as the attribute first. The metonymic reading “involves a shift from the instrument to the musician as the most readily available element in the frame” (Panther and Radden 1999: 9). As a result of the metonymic shift, the reference point (the first violin) is backgrounded, and the target (the first violinist) is foregrounded.48 Figure 649 shows how the source meaning is related to the target meaning by means of a linguistic form. The figure also indicates that the source meaning is conceptually present and is not obliterated by the target meaning. This has been also recently noted by Głaz (2017). How can the form water evoke the water/WATER (form/CONCEPT) configuration without at the same time evoking the projected world, given the complex and inextricable dependencies between them […]? In short, […] activated is always the whole configuration, although probably not all its components to the same degree of salience. ()

It seems then that since in a metonymic relationship concept y (e.g. the first violinist from Example (33) or person from Example (27)) is accessed through/from the perspective of concept x (first violin (Example (33)) or face (Example (27)), the notation that would capture the nature of the relationship best is not x for y or x plus y but y through x.

48 Section 2.4 and 3.1 show that there are also metonymies where the source may be foregrounded and the target backgrounded (for a detailed analysis of different degrees of foregrounding see Section 2.4 on prototypicality of metonymy). 49 An earlier version of this figure may be found, for example, in Panther and Thornburg 2018: 124.

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Figure 6. The basic metonymic relation (Panther and Thornburg 2018: 124). Reproduced with permission from the authors and publishing house

1.2.4 Final remarks Based on the above presented arguments, we come to the following conclusions: 1. the substitution view seems to be excluded by the fact that in a metonymic relationship, both the source and the target are conceptually present, 2. the addition view does not account for all metonymies (in a number of metonymies the source presupposes the target) and misleadingly implies equal prominence of the source and the target, 3. in a metonymic relationship concept y seems to be accessed through concept x and thus the notation that would seem to capture the relationship best is y through x rather than x for y or x plus y.50 50 Although the traditional x for y formula does not seem to capture the nature of the metonymic shift well, owing to the fact that it is well established in Cognitive Linguistics, it has also often been used in this book.

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1.3 Contiguity According to its traditional definition, “metonymy is a figure of speech in which the name of an object or concept is replaced with a word closely related to or suggested by the original” (Encyclopaedia Britannica (1985)). As could be seen, the first two elements of the definition are probably better accounted for within the framework of Cognitive Linguistics. Namely, metonymy is a conceptual phenomenon which is not limited to language, although it sometimes happens to be reflected in language, and in a metonymic relationship one element does not simply stand for another, but both elements (the source and the target) are conceptually present (a metonym (the source) evokes the whole conceptual frame and affords access to the desired target). With these elements established, our attention can now turn to the last element of the traditional definition of metonymy, namely, contiguity or, as it is called in the aforementioned definition, “close relation” or “association” of two entities of a metonymic relationship. What was likely the first account of contiguity, appeared in Rhetorica ad Herennium. Denominatio [i.e. “metonymy”] is a trope that takes its expression from near and close things and by which we can comprehend a thing that is not denominated by its proper word. (1894: 337, author’s emphasis)

The words “near” and “close,” which are used in the above definition, may indicate the physical contiguity of things. This is not surprising since contiguity relationships were traditionally located in the world of reality and were limited to an observable relationship between two referents (Radden and Kövecses 1999: 19). Still, as numerous linguists have observed, such an approach to contiguity is hardly accurate. Taylor, for example, notes that “the essence of metonymy resides in the possibility of establishing connections between entities which co-­occur within a given conceptual structure [and the] entities need not be contiguous, in any spatial sense” (1995: 123). In the same vein, Feyaerts argues that reality is “a domain which does not exist independently of human understanding, knowledge and belief ” (1999: 317)

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and contiguity relationships should therefore be placed at the conceptual level rather than located in the world of reality. Similarly, Dirven argues that contiguity “cannot be based on any form of objective or ‘natural’ contiguity” which has “the far-­reaching implication that contiguity must be taken to mean ‘conceptual contiguity’ and that we can have contiguity when we just ‘see’ contiguity between domains” (1993: 14). However, as Koch notes, contiguity originally does belong to the conceptual domain of space. Koch suggests that applying it to other conceptual relations (like the temporal or causal ones) involves “a metaphor on the metaconceptual level” (1999: 146). [B]y choosing exactly this term [contiguity], we conceptualize, on the metaconceptual level, different types of conceptual contiguity in terms of spatial contiguity.51

This can be seen if we analyse Lakoff and Johnson’s example of the place for the event metonymy (1980: 39): (34) Let’s not let Thailand become another Vietnam.52 We seem to conceive of the relation between the source domain (place – vietnam) and the target domain (event – war) in terms of some spatial contiguity. Although an event is not a physical entity we end up with the notion of contiguity of place and event “by ascribing the event to the place where it happened” (Truszczyńska 2003: 223). Koch (1999: 146) also adds that we do not actually need to retain the spatial metaphor and he proposes a frame model to explain the concept of contiguity. Contiguity, according 51

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Interestingly, Szwedek argues that a similar process takes place in metaphorization. The elements of a metaphorical relationship (both static (object, container, etc.) and dynamic (event, activity)) have to be conceptualized as objects (objectified) before they are introduced into the process of metaphorization. In their discussion of structural metaphors, such as, for example, argument is war, Lakoff and Johnson (1980) concentrate on the internal structure of both members of the metaphor. However, it is necessary, I think, to keep in mind that both members are events (or activities) which are first objectified, i.e. conceptualized as objects for general reference. (2000: 144)

This example was already used in Section 1.1.2 and is repeated here for convenience.

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to him, may be perceived as “the relation that exists between elements of a frame or between the frame as a whole and its elements.” By recurring to frames, we can easily understand metonymic phenomena because frames – and this is a point I would like to stress – are non-­linguistic, conceptual wholes. When acknowledging the latter fact, we do not have to overproliferate linguistic-­semantic descriptions only for the sake of metonymies.

Numerous other linguists have come to a similar conclusion and argue that metonymy operates within some conceptual structure. For example, as mentioned at the beginning of this chapter, Kövecses and Radden (1998:39) define metonymy in the following way: Metonymy is a cognitive process in which one conceptual entity, the vehicle, provides mental access to another conceptual entity, the target, within the same domain or ICM.

Interestingly enough, contiguity as such is not mentioned at all in the above definition. This may be because contiguity is a misleading, or as Umberto Eco puts it “wishy-­washy” notion (1984: 147). For example, in the case of euphemisms, the vehicle and the target are often hardly contiguous. Consider the following example: (35) That cat must have been twenty years old when he finally bought the farm.53 To buy the farm is an American slang expression and a euphemism for to die. It probably originated during the Second World War, when death benefits paid to the family of a deceased soldier were thought to be enough to pay off the mortgage to the home or farm.54 buying the farm (the source) and dying (the target) seem in no way close to each other. They are, however, or at least used to be in certain circumstances, parts of the

53 Source: . 54 Online Etymology Dictionary ().

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same idealized cognitive model or scenario of dying.55 Other examples of metonymy in which the vehicle and the target do not seem close to one another are given by Voßhagen (1999: 289–308), who claims that concepts may sometimes “stand for” their opposites.56 [w]hen social attitudes differ, linguistic expressions may take on different, but related meanings that correspond to these attitudes. When the attitudes are opposed, linguistic expressions may take on opposite meanings. Thus, the adjective bad had a conventionally accepted negative, marked meaning for white mainstream culture, and a positive one for many African American speakers who opposed the attitudes of the dominant group. In this sense, the metonymic use of expressions like bad, wicked, etc., is motivated by social opposition. (1999: 296)

Thus, in the following example: (36) He’s got a wicked tape collection (Cambridge International Dictionary of English 2000), wicked does not mean bad or morally wrong, but excellent. Although bad and excellent are clearly as remote concepts as can be, they still interact in a metonymic relationship.57 Thus, two concepts need not be “close” to each other to be involved in a metonymic relationship. What is important is that they belong to one conceptual structure. And, as Voßhagen argues (1999: 291), opposites do belong one conceptual structure.58 Let us now try to define the conceptual structure metonymy operates within.

55

Since the practice that gave rise to the metonymy disappeared and the expression is now idiomatic, it may be reasonably argued that the expression has lost the status of a “genuine metonymy” and has become a “post-metonymy” (cf. Riemer 2003). 56 Such cases are often motivated by social-­pragmatic factors rather than perceptual salience. 57 It seems that in the light of Seto’s (1995, 1999) and Nerlich’s (2010) findings, for example, the relationship should be considered synecdochic rather than metonymic since it is category rather than entity related. For a detailed analysis see Section 2.2. 58 In his article Voßhagen uses the word “domain” (for a detailed analysis of different conceptual structures see Section 1.3.1).

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1.3.1 Conceptual structures: The name and definition The structure metonymy operates within has been given different names. It is called a frame by Fillmore (1975) and later by Koch (1999) or Blank (1999), an idealized cognitive model by Lakoff (1987) and later by Radden and Kövecses (1999) or Ruiz de Mendoza and Díez Velasco (2003), and a domain matrix by Langacker (1987), Croft (1993), and Voßhagen (1999). And it has also been described in the literature as a scene, script, schema, or scenario (e.g. Fillmore 1977 or de Beaugrande and Dressler 1981). a) Frames The notion of frame has been used for many years in various fields (e.g. in psychology or the study of Artificial Intelligence). The notion has also played a very important role in Cognitive Linguistics, mostly owing to the influential work by Charles J. Fillmore. In the 1970s Fillmore proposed a “scenes-­and-­frames paradigm” as an alternative to the theory that word meanings could be captured in terms of sets of necessary and sufficient conditions. As Cienki notes, in contrast to the dictionary-­like notion of meaning inherent in (particularly American) formalist approaches to semantics in the 1970s, the theory of linguistic frames embraces an encyclopedic view of meaning, which continues in Cognitive Linguistics to this day. The work on frames also developed in opposition to purely compositional approaches to semantics, according to which the meaning of a text is simply determined by the integration of the meanings of its component words and sentences. (2007: 172–173)

Frames are not understood by Fillmore as “an independent approach to linguistic analysis,” but rather “as one part of a paradigm, integrally linked to the idea of scenes” (Cienki 2007: 171). The word scene is used by Fillmore “in a maximally general sense, including not only visual scenes but also familiar kinds of interpersonal transactions, standard scenarios defined by the culture, institutional structures, enactive experiences, body image” (1975: 124). The term frame, on the other hand, is understood by Fillmore as “any system of linguistic choices” such as collections of words, grammatical

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rules or linguistic categories which may be associated with prototypical instances of scenes. Cienki, following Fillmore (1975: 126), illustrates the relationship between frames and scenes in the following way: The English word write and the Japanese word kaku are commonly considered translation equivalents, but since the overall scenes associated with the words in their respective cultures differ, the linguistic frames within which each word is used also differ coordinately. The scene associated with the English word entails that it is some form of language that is written, while the scene linked to the Japanese word is less specific and could include various kinds of drawing. Thus, the frame for answering the question “What did you write?” would be limited to expressions for “a linguistic communication scene,” while in Japanese the frame for answering the coordinate question about kaku affords a broader range of possibilities. (2007: 172)

b) Idealized Cognitive Models The foundations for the development of Idealized Cognitive Models (ICMs) in Cognitive Linguistics was provided by the notion of Gestalts.59 The first detailed analysis of ICMs appeared in Lakoff (1987). ICMs, according to Lakoff, are complex, structured wholes by means of which we organize our knowledge (1987: 68). They are not a direct reflection of an objective state of affairs in the world, but a way in which we organize knowledge according to certain cognitive structuring principles. There are a few important qualities of ICMs. First, they emerge from human interaction and language use in context and they are entirely “culture-­dependent.” As Blank notes (1999: 174), ICMs not only differ from one linguistic community to another but they can also vary within the same community. An English breakfast, for example, typically includes bacon and eggs, buttered toast, etc., whereas in Scotland porridge made of oats is an important part of breakfast.

59 Experiential linguistics – a new approach in linguistics which developed in the 1970s – explored the application of Gestalts in linguistics. As Cienki notes, it was “an alternative to the formal syntactic rules of Transformational Generative Grammar, which essentially [tried] to handle grammar in a mathematical framework. Instead, […] the Gestalt approach [supported] the view that grammar [did] not rely on absolute rules, but rather [involved] flexible patterns and notions like partial similarity, or partial mapping to a pattern” (2007: 175–176).

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Second, ICMs, as the name suggests, are idealized or oversimplified representations of reality. The bachelor ICM, for example, “says nothing about the existence of priests, ‘long term unmarried couplings,’ homosexuality, Moslems who are permitted four wives and only have three, etc. – […] a bachelor is simply an unmarried adult man” (Lakoff 1987: 70). Finally, idealized cognitive models are wholes made up of parts. This feature lets us distinguish two kinds of metonymy: the relation between two elements within an ICM, and pars pro toto or totum pro parte relations between an ICM as a whole and its elements.60 Lakoff (1987: 68) gives the following example of an idealized cognitive model: Take the English word Tuesday. Tuesday can be defined only relative to an idealised model that includes the natural cycle defined by the movement of the sun, the standard means of characterising the end of one day and the beginning of the next, and a larger seven-­day calendric cycle – the week. In the idealized model, the week is a whole with seven parts organized in a linear sequence; each part is called a day, and the third is Tuesday.

c) Domains The notion of domains has been used as a theoretical construct in Cognitive Linguistic research in conceptual metaphor theory, yet it is primarily through Langacker’s Cognitive Grammar (1987) that a detailed analysis of the concept is mainly known. Langacker defines a domain as “a coherent area of conceptualization relative to which semantic units may be characterized” (1987: 488). Domains may be basic or abstract. A basic domain, according to Langacker, is not profiled in a domain that serves as its base, but emerges directly from experience.61 As Croft puts it, “[b]asic domains are concepts 60 See also Section 2.5 for a discussion on the pars pro toto relations. 61 Langacker makes a distinction between the notions of profile and base. The profile is the concept symbolized by the word itself, while the base is the encyclopaedic knowledge or conceptual structure that the concept presupposes. For example, as Croft and Cruse note (2004: 15) a radius is “a line segment, but not any line segment: the line segment is defined relative to the structure of the circle. In other words, one can understand radius only against a background understanding of the concept circle.”

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that do not appear to be definable relative to other, more basic concepts, at least in the commonsense or folk model of experience” (2003: 166). Along the same lines Cienki points out that “basic domains cannot be fully reduced to any other domains, and in this way they can be thought of as primitive dimensions of cognitive representation” (2007: 182).62,63 A non-­ basic or abstract domain, on the other hand, is a concept that presupposes another domain (not necessarily a basic one). Croft, who expands on Langacker’s work, adds that a domain is “a semantic structure that functions as a base for at least one concept profile (typically, many concept profiles)” (2003: 164). A particular semantic structure “can be a concept in a domain (when it is profiled), or a domain itself (when it is functioning as the base to other concept profiles).” For example, a circle can be a concept in the domain of two-­dimensional space (shape), but it can also function as the base for the concepts of an arc, a diameter, a radius, etc.64 A concept, in turn, is a semantic structure symbolized by a word (Croft 2003: 165). As Croft notes, a concept often presupposes several different domains and “the combination of domains simultaneously presupposed by a concept […] is called a domain matrix” (2003: 168).65 62 63

As Cienki notes, our sensory capacities are examples of several different basic domains (2007: 182). Basic domains may have one or more dimensions. [W]hile time, pitch, and temperature are understood as onedimensional, since each entails a single, consistent ordering, domains like kinship relations and colour involve multiple dimensions (for kinship relations: intra- versus intergenerational relations; and for colour: brightness, saturation, and hue). (Cienki 2007: 182)

64 As Croft notes, the relationship between an abstract domain and the basic domain it presupposes is not taxonomic. “It is a relationship of concept to background assumption or presupposition” (2003: 167). See also Section 2.2 on taxonomic and partonomic relations. 65 Croft’s observations are in line with Langacker’s who claims that the entity designated by a symbolic unit can […] be thought of as a point of access to a network. The semantic value of a symbolic unit is given by the open-­ended set of relations […] in which this access node participates. Each of these relations is a cognitive routine, and because they share at least one component the activation of one routine facilitates (but does not always necessitate) the activation of another. (1987: 163)

46 Chapter 1 The notion [of domain] is at the heart of the encyclopaedic view of linguistic semantics in Cognitive Grammar; if knowledge is encyclopaedic, rather than dictionary-­like, domains provide a way of carving out the scope of concepts relevant for characterizing the meanings of linguistic units. (Cienki 2007: 182)

1.3.2  Conceptual structures: The boundaries One of the most important tenets of cognitive semantics is that the meaning of words is encyclopaedic (i.e. everything we know about a concept is part of its meaning) (Langacker 1987).66 A given concept then typically presupposes not only its base domain, but a complex combination of domains, called a domain matrix. For example, the domain matrix of the letter T, which, as Croft notes (2003: 169), according to a typical informal theory of domains, would probably only belong to the domain of writing, on closer inspection turns out to be extremely intricate. [The letter T] is directly defined as a letter of the alphabet; its base (domain) is hence the alphabet. The alphabet is itself an abstract domain presupposing the notion of a writing system – it is not just an instance of a writing system, since the latter involves not just a set of symbols such as an alphabet but also the means of putting them together, including the order on a page, spaces for words, etc. The domain of writing systems in turn presupposes the activity of writing. The activity of writing must be defined in terms of human communication, which presupposes the notion of meaning – perhaps a basic domain, since the symbolic relation appears not to be reducible to some other relation – and of the visual sensations, since writing is communication via usually perceived inscriptions, rather than auditorily or through gestures. And since writing is an activity, the domains of time and force or causation (both basic domains; force is a generalisation of causation) are also involved in the domain matrix of writing, since the letter T is the product of an activity. Since it is a human activity, it presupposes the involvement of human beings. Human beings are living things with mental abilities, such as volition, intention and cognition (themselves dimensions of the mental domain or, better, domains in the matrix of the domain of the mind). Living things in turn are physical objects endowed with life. (2003: 168–169)

66 As Croft notes, the study of linguistic semantics is “the study of commonsense human experience” (2003: 163).

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The basic-­abstract domain relations presupposed in defining the concept of the letter T are shown in Figure 7 (the basic domains are given in small capitals).67

Figure 7. Domain matrix underlying the concept of the letter T (Croft 2003: 170). Reproduced with permission from the author

67 As Croft notes, it is “difficult to determine direct vs. indirect reference to a domain.” The letter T may be a shape “by virtue of being a letter of the alphabet, or by virtue of being the physical product of the activity of writing” (2003: 171).

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Although the domain matrix presented above is extremely complex, it is still far from complete. The above quotation and Figure 7 focus only on the most central fact about the letter T – the fact that it is a letter of the alphabet.68 However, bearing in mind the tenet of cognitive semantics that everything we know about a concept is part of its meaning, we should also mention other things that make up the meaning of the letter T. As Croft explains (2003: 172), [the letter T] is the twentieth letter of the alphabet, which brings in the domain of a scale (ordering; a basic domain) and measurement, which in turn presupposes numbers, which in turn presupposes the notion of a unit of an entity. The letter T also corresponds to a linguistic sound, specifically a consonant, which brings in the domain of sound sensation (another basic domain), vocal articulation (a very abstract domain), and (again) language or communication.

In addition, there is a wealth of specific knowledge that is quite peripheral to the meaning of the letter T.69 As Croft notes, the letter T is for example “the initial of [his] wife’s last name, which presupposes a whole host of abstract domains based on other abstract domains and ultimately a wide range of basic domains” (2003: 173). As can be seen then, domain matrices are extremely intricate and vary from speaker to speaker. It seems then that their boundaries cannot be, at least objectively, clearly delineated.70 The cognitive domain is characterized by Langacker (1987:  154–158), Taylor (1995: 83–87), and most other cognitive linguists, as an “encyclopedic” domain (i.e. it includes all the entrenched knowledge that a speaker has about an area of experience). Thus, it will normally vary in breadth from speaker to speaker, and in many cases, it has no precise boundaries. (Barcelona 2003a: 8–9) 68 The alphabet is the primary domain of the concept (it is the domain in which the most central facts about the concept are defined). 69 As Croft notes (2003: 171), Langacker (1987) does not make it clear whether the domain matrix of a concept should include only the base domains against which a concept is directly profiled or the entire domain structure underlying the concept profile. Still, Croft insists that the notion of a domain matrix “include all of the domains in question” (author’s emphasis). 70 See also Section 4.1.

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To conclude the discussion on the boundaries of the structures metonymy operates within, one should add that, in their broad understanding, the structures are not limited to concepts only. According to Radden and Kövecses (1999: 23), for example, an ICM encompasses three ontological realms (see Figure 8). The realms correspond to thought, symbol and referent (the three entities that comprise Ogden and Richard’s semiotic triangle (1923: 11)).

Figure 8. Sign, reference and concept metonymies (Radden and Kövecses 1999: 23). Reproduced with permission from the authors

Radden and Kövecses distinguish two main types of ICMs: 1. ICMs which “interrelate entities of different ontological realms within the same semiotic unit” (1999: 23) and which give rise to: a. Sign ICMs – which in turn lead to the form for concept metonymy. Radden and Kövecses note that the form as a rule “metonymically stands for the concept it denotes” (24). Thus, for example, the form dollar (the word form or the sign $) “stands for” “currency denomination of dollar, currency, or money in general.”71 b. Reference ICMs – which lead to the following metonymies: • form-­concept for thing/event (where, e.g. the word/ concept cow “stands for” a real cow),

71

The view is in agreement with Lakoff and Turner’s, who claim that words/forms metonymically stand for the concepts they express (1989: 108). It is noteworthy, however, that the view is not universal. Panther and Thornburg, for example, hold that “from the assumption that metonymy is based on conceptual contiguity, it follows that the sign relation between form and meaning cannot be considered metonymic since this relation is usually arbitrary” (2007: 241, author’s emphasis).

50 Chapter 1

• concept for thing/event (where, e.g. the concept cow “stands for” a real cow – the meaning associated with the word cow “stands for” any cow in the real world), • form for thing/event (where, e.g. the word-­form cow “stands for” a real cow or where a proper name (e.g. John Smith) is used for the person of that name. Radden and Kövecses (1999: 25) call it the Direct-­Reference ICM. 2. ICMs which “interrelate entities of different semiotic units within the same ontological realm or realms” (1999: 23) and which give rise to Concept ICMs. Concept ICMs in turn lead to the following metonymic relationships: • forma-­concepta for formb-­conceptb (e.g. bus-“bus” which “stands for” bus driver-“bus driver”), • form-­concepta for conceptb (e.g. mother-“mother” which “stands for” “housewife mother”),72 • forma-­concepta for forma-­conceptb (e.g. White House “place” which “stands for” White House “institution”),73 • forma-­concepta for formb-­concepta (e.g. UN which “stands for” United Nations). All the above-­mentioned examples are so called linguistic metonymies.74 However, as mentioned in Chapter 1, metonymy is by no means a phenomenon limited to language. Thus, one should probably add another metonymic relation to Radden and Kövecses’s list. Namely, the concepta for conceptb metonymy, where neither the source nor the target shows up in language.

72 In the light of Seto’s (1995, 1999) and Nerlich’s (2010) findings, for example, the relationship should be considered synecdochic rather than metonymic since it is category rather than entity related. For a detailed analysis see Section 2.2. 73 One may argue, however, that at least in that particular example, there is a name for conceptb such as administration or government. 74 According to Panther and Thornburg (2007: 240), one can speak of a linguistic metonymy “when the source content is expressed by a linguistic sign” (not necessarily the target).

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1.3.3 Concluding remarks Evidently, the concepts of frame, ICM, and domain and probably also scene, script, schema or scenario are quite similar. All of them, as Cienki notes (2007: 183) “derive from an approach to language as a system of communication that reflects the world as it is construed by humans, rather than as it might be represented from some god’s-­eye point of view.” All of the constructs also provide “a way of characterizing the structured encyclopaedic knowledge which is inextricably connected with linguistic knowledge.” They are also defined in a similar way. Langacker, for example, defines a conceptual domain as a context “for the characterization of a semantic unit” (1987: 147) and Fillmore and Atkins define frames as “cognitive structures […] knowledge of which is presupposed for the concepts encoded by the words” (1992: 75). Croft (2003: 164) argues that “semantic space is the whole network of an individual’s – and a community’s – knowledge” which seems to be organized into “experiential domains” (2003: 164) and Ruiz de Mendoza and Díez Velasco claim that “we structure our knowledge in the form of idealised cognitive models” (2003: 490). With such overlap, is it at all possible to draw a clear line between the terms? To date, there have been some attempts to put the notions in order. De Beaugrande and Dressler (1981), for example, use the term schema as a global pattern of events and states in an ordered sequence linked by time, proximity and causality, arranged in progression, plan as a global pattern of events and states leading up to an intended goal, and script as a stabilized plan called up frequently to specify the roles of participants and their expected actions (which differs from plan by a pre-­established routine). Yet the results of attempts such as these have remained unsatisfactory and many scholars admit that it is virtually impossible to distinguish between the terms. Langacker, for example, notes that the construct of abstract domain is essentially equivalent to an ICM, a frame, scene, schema, or possibly a script (1987: 150 f.). Other linguists have arrived at similar conclusions. Cienki claims that a scene, as defined by Fillmore (1975: 124), does not differ much from what was in later years called a domain. He also adds that

52 Chapter 1 because each of the terms “frame,” “ICM,” or “domain” can refer to a kind of knowledge structure which can serve as a background for interpreting the meaning of linguistic forms, there is sometimes overlap in how they are used by different researchers. (Cienki 2007: 183)

In a similar vein, Lewandowska-­Tomaszczyk argues that, “Frames, including, say, restaurant scenes, cannot be in fact distinguished from Schemas or Scripts, both […] potentially able to cover the same restaurant scenes” (1994: 7). Also Fillmore (1986: 49) admits having given up on “maintaining a differentiation between the terms frame, schema, scene, script, idealized cognitive model, and domain.”75,76 For the sake of clarity, Lakoff ’s (1987) notion of idealized cognitive model and Langacker’s (1987) notion of domain matrix have mainly been used in this book as cover terms for all the above-­mentioned structures. The other terms mentioned above have only occasionally been used, in particular in order to differentiate between more static (frames) and more dynamic (scripts) structures.77

75

Despite the similarities between frames, ICMs, and domains, stressed by numerous scholars, the constructs are normally associated with different theoretical contexts. As Cienki points out, “frame theory paved the way for particular theories of grammar (such as Construction Grammar), ICMs have been a useful way of capturing the role of background knowledge for certain kinds of semantic analyses, particularly as they relate to questions of categorization […] [and] domains play an especially prominent role in conceptual metaphor theory and in Cognitive Grammar” (2007: 183–184). 76 It is noteworthy that although many linguists use the terms interchangeably such an approach is by no means universal. Glynn, for instance, claims that we should differentiate between idealized cognitive models and frames (2006: 88). 77 The distinction has been adopted from Taylor who claims that “[i]n essence, frames are static configurations of knowledge. Scripts, on the other hand, are more dynamic in nature” (1995: 87).

Chapter 2

Metonymy: The scope

In order to develop an accurate definition of metonymy one should probably determine how it differs from other tropes or figures of speech.1 In order to do so, however, one first has to establish what “other” tropes to compare metonymy to. This is by no means an easy task, since to date numerous different classifications have been proposed, in which the number of tropes ranges from as few as two to as many as thirty (Nerlich 2010: 299). In antiquity (in the work of Aristotle), metaphor, metonymy, and synecdoche were not strictly differentiated (Nerlich and Clarke 1999: 198) (Figure 9).2

1

2

Traditionally, the terms trope and figure of speech are not interchangeable. A figure of speech is a broader term which refers to both: a) a trope (from the Greek “turn”) which is an (artful) deviation from the ordinary or principal signification of a word, for example, metaphor, metonymy, or synecdoche (e.g. She is just a pretty face – metonymy) (Peters 2004: 18). b) a scheme which is an (artful) deviation from the ordinary arrangement of words, for example, antimetabole (the repetition of words in successive clauses, in reverse grammatical order, as in the famous example from a speech by John F. Kennedy: Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country) (Burton ).

Some scholars, however, interpret Aristotle to mean that metonymy and synecdoche are mere subtypes of metaphor (e.g. Panther and Radden 1999: 1).

54 Chapter 2

‘Metaphor’ in a wider sense

metaphor

synecdoche

metonymy

Figure 9. Figures of speech – antiquity (Nerlich and Clarke 1999: 198)

In classical rhetoric three (sometimes four) main tropes were distinguished (metaphor, metonymy, synecdoche, and sometimes irony) (Figure 10).3 figures of speech

metaphor

metonymy

synecdoche

genus/species

part/whole

Figure 10. Figures of speech – classical rhetoric (Nerlich and Clarke 1999: 199)

In Roman Jakobson’s work (1956), the number of tropes was reduced to two (metaphor and metonymy). George Lakoff and Mark Johnson, in their 3

The division into three tropical figures of speech (translatio (metaphor), denominatio (metonymy) and intellectio (synecdoche)) was suggested as early as in the 90s bc in the Rhetorica ad Herennium (the oldest surviving Latin book on rhetoric) (Nerlich 2010).

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55

highly influential Metaphors We Live By (1980), also distinguished only two tropes, that is, metaphor and metonymy. Synecdoche in Jakobson’s and Lakoff and Johnson’s works was subordinated to metonymy and explored as one aspect of metonymy (Figure 11).

Figure 11. Figures of speech – Jakobson (Nerlich and Clarke 1999: 199)

In more recent scholarship, however, the idea of the “cognitive triangle” (with metaphor based on similarity, synecdoche on inclusion and metonymy on contiguity) has been “revived” (e.g. Seto 1995, 1999; Burkhardt 1996; Nerlich and Clarke 1999; or Nerlich 2010) (Figure 12). Nerlich for example argues that metonymy exploits the contiguity that exists between the features inside a referential (including partonomical) domain, associated with a concept; synecdoche exploits the horizontal and vertical contiguity between members of a taxonomy inside one taxonomical domain; whereas metaphor, finally, exploits the contrast and/or similarity between different semantic domains situated on similar hierarchical ranks in different taxonomical systems. (2010: 310)

56 Chapter 2

Figure 12. Figures of speech – Burkhardt, Seto, Nerlich and Clarke (Nerlich and Clarke 1999: 203)

Metonymy has often been discussed in relation to metaphor and synecdoche. This book will not be much different in that respect and the discussion will also begin with these two tropes.

2.1 Metaphor The differences between metaphor and metonymy have been quite extensively discussed (e.g. Goossens (1990), Dirven (1993), Panther and Radden (1999), Dirven and Pörings (2003), Barcelona (2003), Haser (2005), Glynn (2006), Górska and Radden (2006), Kosecki (2007), Panther, Thornburg and Barcelona (2009), Barnden (2010), Burkhardt and Nerlich (2010), Brdar and Brdar-­Szabó (2013), Gonzálvez-­García, Peña Cervel and Pérez-­Hernández (2013)). Both metaphor and metonymy are cognitive operations involving domains (or ICMs) and mappings, but there are a few important differences between them mentioned in the Cognitive Linguistic literature.

Metonymy: The scope

57

First, it is the nature of the relationship between the vehicle and the target. In conceptual metaphors there are normally a few systematic conceptual correspondences between certain elements of the source domain and certain elements of the target domain. Metonymies on the other hand are normally characterized by a single mapping (Figure 13).

Figure 13. Metaphor and metonymy distinguished on the basis of the number of conceptual mappings (correspondences) involved (Brdar and Brdar-­Szabó 2013: 202)

Second, metonymic mappings are in principle reversible. Thus, for example a given part may be used to activate the whole and vice versa. The bidirectional character of metonymy was implicitly noticed in traditional approaches by listing both directions of a metonymic relationship such as whole for part and part for whole, cause for effect and effect for cause (Radden and Kövecses 1999). Metaphors on the other hand, which are often used to structure a more abstract concept by means of some more concrete one, tend to be unidirectional. The third difference between metaphor and metonymy is said to lie in the number of domains involved in the processes (cf. Gibbs 1999, Radden and Kövecses 1999, Dirven 2003, Croft 2003, Barcelona 2003a, 2003b, 2003c). As Gibbs notes (1999: 62), “in metaphor, there are two conceptual

58 Chapter 2

domains, and one is understood in terms of another,” and in metonymy “the mapping or connection is within the same domain or domain matrix.” The difference may be presented schematically as shown in Figure 14.

Figure 14. Metaphor and metonymy distinguished on the basis of domain inclusion (Brdar and Brdar-­Szabó 2013: 201)

Unfortunately, the first two differences, that is, the nature of the relationship between the vehicle and the target as well as the reversibility of the relationship, do not really allow for a clear distinction between metaphor an metonymy. Metonymy very often is, but does not have to be, a reversible process and metaphor may, but does not have to, involve many systematic conceptual correspondences between certain elements of the source domain and certain elements of the target domain. It usually is the third difference then (i.e. the number of domains involved in the processes) that is used when drawing a line between metaphor and metonymy.4 4

It is worth noting, however, that also this difference is questioned by some cognitive linguists. For example, according to Barnden (2010), contiguity should also include similarity. For a detailed discussion see Chapter 4 of this book.

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59

2.2 Synecdoche Throughout history synecdoche has had its ups and downs; from being reduced to a mere subtype of metonymy to becoming a master-­trope. For example, Aristotle in his Poetics distinguished between four classes of metaphors and subsumed metonymy and synecdoche under metaphor (Panther and Radden 1999: 1).5 In the 1970s, on the other hand, the Groupe de Liège or Groupe µ proposed a theory in which synecdoche was the fundamental trope and metaphor and metonymy were mere derivative categories (metaphor was defined for example as a double synecdoche) (Panther and Radden 1999: 1, Panther and Thornburg 2007: 238, Nerlich 2010). Contemporary scholarship still has not reached a consensus on the status of synecdoche. Lakoff and Johnson (1980: 36), for example, concur with Aristotle’s classification of synecdoche as a mere subtype of metonymy, in which the part “stands for” the whole, and define it as follows: We are including as a special case of metonymy what traditional rhetoricians have called synecdoche, where the parts stand for the whole […].

Unfortunately, however, such a definition does not seem to allow for a clear distinction between metonymy and synecdoche. According to the above definition, Little Red Riding Hood, for instance, would probably be classified as metonymy (because the hood is not part of the girl) but Bluebeard as synecdoche (because the beard is part of the serial killer) (examples by Seto 1999: 96). Intuitively, however, both examples seem to be instances of the same phenomenon and the demarcation line drawn based on the above definition is, as Seto claims (1999: 96), “factually negligible and theoretically trivial.”6 Another demarcation problem has been noted by Koch (1999: 154), who claims that

5 6

Some scholars argue, however, that Aristotle never actually used the term synecdoche (e.g. Nerlich 2010). Seto classifies both Little Red Riding Hood and Bluebeard as examples of metonymy.

60 Chapter 2 [s]eparating metonymy and pars/totum “synecdoche” would be artificial because the difference between pars/totum relations and (other) contiguities is often not so easy to pin down.7

For example, it is hard to say whether the relation between counter and public house, for example, in: They noticed him going into the hotel bar (Cambridge International Dictionary of English), should be considered the pars/totum relation or the relation of location. Similarly, also the example classified by Blank (1999: 180) as typical aspect – activity (French: baiser “to kiss” > “to make love”) or place – object (Latin: focus “fireplace” > French: feu “fire”) could be equally well treated as examples of pars pro toto or totum pro parte respectively. In an attempt to draw a clearer demarcation line between synecdoche and metonymy Seto proposes that the former should not be understood as a mere subtype of the latter, as is often the case, but as an independent phenomenon. According to Seto, metonymy is a partonomic (“part of ”) relation, an E (entity) related transfer. It is a relation between an entity and its parts “such as the relation between a table and its legs” (1999: 93). Seto understands the concept of entity in the cognitive-­linguistic sense of a bounded region and distinguishes three major types: a. spatial entities (such as dog or river) which are entities that have spatial extensions. As Seto argues, “a prototypical spatial entity is a thing that is bounded by a clear contour, located in a three-­dimensional space, and is easy to recognize as an organic whole such as a person, a dog, a bicycle, etc.” (1999: 96–97). Although some physical entities have less clear contours, for example, mountain or city, they are still usually recognized as discrete objects (we tend to impose a physical or mental contour on them). b. temporal entities (such as earthquake or washing) which are bounded by temporal frames. The temporal frames determine the beginning and ending of temporal entities, thus making it possible to capture temporal entities as identifiable wholes. Framed events, or, as Szwedek

7

Koch argues that we should integrate pars pro toto and totum pro parte into metonymy (1999: 154).

Metonymy: The scope

61

would likely call them (2000), objectified events, can behave more or less like spatial entities. c. abstract entities (such as power or beauty) are not bounded by either space or time and their existence is “borne out of ontological metaphor” (Seto 1999: 98). Synecdoche, on the other hand, is, according to Seto, a taxonomic (‘kind of ’) relation, a C (category) related transfer (“between a more comprehensive category and a less comprehensive one”) (Figures 15 and 16).8,9,10

Figure 15. Taxonomy (C-­relation) (Seto 1999: 93)

8

9 10

This view of metonymy and synecdoche is in accord with Burkhardt’s (1996: 178) who notes that [t]he old quarrel about the whole-­part relation can be forgotten as soon as we become aware of the fact that it is only based on an equivocation, for pars can mean “component” as well as “subset.” But only in the latter case should we regard the pars/totum-­relation as a quantitative and therefore synecdochical one, whereas the relation of a material component to the whole belongs to the set of metonymic relations. (Trans. by Nerlich 2010)

Nysenholc (1981) notes that these are not the only types of category related transfer (for a discussion see Sections 2.2.2 and 2.2.4). For a discussion and critique of such an understanding of synecdoche see Whitsitt (2013).

62 Chapter 2

Figure 16. Partonomy (E-­relation) (Seto 1999: 93)

2.2.1 Classical and prototypical categories Seto (1995, 1999), Burkhardt (1996), Nerlich and Clarke (1999), and Nerlich (2010) argue that synecdoche is a category related transfer. Prior to a more detailed analysis of the nature of the transfer, however, the hardly unambiguous concept of category requires definition. Classical rhetoric and Cognitive Linguistics differ in their views on the concept in several key ways. First, according to the classical view, all category members are characterized by a limited set of essential features. According to the cognitive view, which follows the findings of Wittgenstein (Philosophical Investigations (1958)) and Rosch (Human Categorization (1977)), category members do not have to share common attributes but instead, seem to be connected by a network of overlapping similarities. Second, the classical theory suggests that categories are homogeneous units (there are no better or worse category members) with clear-­cut boundaries. The experimental prototype hypothesis of categorization shows, however, that “categories are not homogeneous, but have a prototype, good and bad members, and have fuzzy boundaries” (Ungerer and Schmid 1996: 38). Geeraerts (1992: 184) gives the following definition of prototypical categories:

Metonymy: The scope

63

First, prototypical categories cannot be defined by means of a single set of criterial (necessary and sufficient) attributes […]. Second, prototypical categories exhibit a family resemblance structure, or more generally, their semantic structure takes the form of a radial set of clustered and overlapping meanings […]. Third, prototypical categories exhibit degrees of category membership; not every member is equally representative for a category […]. And fourth, prototypical categories are blurred at the edges […].

The understanding of the notion of category adopted in this book is in line with the one proposed by Geeraerts. 2.2.2  S ynecdoche: A conceptual phenomenon and a basic cognitive mechanism Jakobson (1956) distinguishes between two basic modes of thought: the metaphoric and the metonymic pole and claims that they not only underlie metaphor and metonymy in language, but also, in alternative ways, phenomena in all possible fields, such as language impairments, especially aphasia, child language acquisition, literature (similarity in poetry, contiguity in the novel), Freud’s psycho-­analysis, literary and art schools, the history of painting and art movements, folklore such as folk tales and wedding songs. In fact, Jakobson holds out a research challenge not only to linguistics, but to all areas of semiotics. (Dirven 2003: 41)

Nerlich and Clarke (2001b: 81), similarly to Jakobson, claim that the phenomena are by no means limited to language. They, however, unlike Jakobson, insist that there are three rather than two cognitive strategies. [W]e would argue that metaphor, metonymy, and synecdoche as cognitive strategies are present from birth, but they need the child’s interaction with the world and other human beings to grow into the fully fledged production of metaphors, metonymies and synecdoches as figures of speech. In synecdochical speaking and inferencing children explore the space of conceptual categories, in metonymical speaking and inferencing children explore the space of established referential and semantic relations, in metaphorical speaking and inferencing children discover novel relations and engage in analogical reasoning – and so do adults. These are all aspects of cognitive and semantic learning which continuously structure our understanding of the world and of each other.

64 Chapter 2

Synecdoche, similarly to metonymy, is a conceptual phenomenon rather than a mere linguistic matter. First, similarly to metonymy, the target of a synecdochic relation sometimes does not have a name of its own. A dog, for example, when imagined, takes on the shape of a prototypical member of its category. The prototypical member however, does not necessarily need to have a name. To see this let us consider Ungerer and Schmid’s examples (1996: 43): (37) a. He opened the door to face a pretty, young woman with a dog in her arms. b. The hunter took his gun, left the lodge and called his dog. c. Right from the start of the race the dogs began chasing the rabbit. d. The policemen lined up with the dogs to face the rioters. The breed of the dog “projected” in our minds when reading the examples above would probably be different in each case. This is so due to the fact that the prototypes of cognitive categories are not fixed but may change when a particular context is introduced. When reading Example (37a), a small Pekinese or a miniature pincher would probably spring to mind. In Example (37b), it might be a dachshund, in (37c) a greyhound and in Example (37d) an Alsatian. The prototypes, however, may, and often do, remain unnamed. In Example (37d), the dog “projected” in our minds might be a cross between a retriever and an Alsatian (as is often the case with police dogs). Also stereotypical subcategories, which are often the targets of synecdochic relationships, rarely show up in language.11 For example in: (38) She is a mother, but she isn’t a housewife (Lakoff 1987: 85), the superordinate category mother automatically evokes the subordinate category housewife-­mother. Similarly in: (39) He is a bachelor, but he is tidy and loves housework,

11

Because social stereotypes are not part of any necessary or sufficient conditions for category membership they do not play a role in defining category structure in the classical theory. Lakoff (1987), however, convincingly shows that this is not the case.

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the superordinate category bachelor evokes a nondomestic and untidy bachelor subcategory. In both cases the target stereotypical subcategories (the housewife mother and the messy bachelor) do not have names of their own. Furthermore, synecdoche, being a conceptual phenomenon, can frequently be found “outside language.” For instance, in Guernica, the famous painting by Pablo Picasso, analysed in Chapter 1 (Figure 5), there are, apart from examples of metonymy, numerous examples of visual synecdoche. The agonized mother carrying a dead child depicted in the painting “stands for” all the other suffering mothers and children, and the dismembered soldier lying under the horse “stands for” other soldiers killed during the air raid. Those are examples of the species to genus transfer. One can, however, also find examples of other types of visual synecdoche. Nysenholc, for instance, gives an example of Charlie Chaplin who, in one of his films, used a carpenter’s file instead of a nail file to file his nails (1981: 123). That is an example of the species to species transfer or, as Nysenholc calls it, the horizontal type of synecdoche.12,13,14 There is also evidence that synecdoche plays a role in reasoning. Cognitive reference points, for example, which often activate other elements of their categories, help us make approximations and estimate size. The cognitive reference points can have either biological bases (such as the primary colours or the basic emotions) or cultural bases (e.g. the Seven Deadly Sins) (Lakoff 1987: 89). A hundred, for example, is perceived as a basic number, and is a culturally stipulated cognitive reference point. Thus, it is often used to “stand for” other non-­basic numbers.15

12 13

14 15

For different types of synecdoche see Section 2.2.4. Nysenholc proposes a distinction between horizontal synecdoche (between contiguous species of one genus – the species to species transfer) and vertical synecdoche (between species and genus – the species to genus or genus to species transfer). For other examples (especially from Norse skaldic poetry) and for a comprehensive study of species to species transfer see Sullivan (1998). In her study Sullivan uses the name member for member metonymy. It is noteworthy that Lakoff classifies such examples as metonymies.

66 Chapter 2

(40) I’ve told you a hundred times (Radden and Kövecses 1999: 49) is often used for: I’ve told you several times. We also seem to reason by means of typical examples (Lakoff 1987: 86). We make inferences on their basis and generalize knowledge about more typical cases to less typical ones. Research by Rips showed, for example, that subjects inferred that if the robins, on a certain island, which are more typical birds, got a disease, then the ducks, which are less typical birds, would as well, but not the converse (qtd in Lakoff 1987: 86). Robins then, for the informants of the above-­mentioned research, evoke the whole bird category. Ducks on the other hand, which are less typical birds, do not. Finally, it is worth noting that synecdoche, similarly to metonymy, should probably be considered more basic than metaphor in language and cognition. Kwiatkowska argues that unlike the ability to make cross-­domain, i.e. metaphorical mappings (which can probably only be made by humans), the very basic, seemingly inborn cognitive mechanism of metonymy is a sort of cognitive prerequisite that lets animals and humans participate in the process of recognising the physical world. (2007: 298)

Synecdoche (the ability to make intra-­category mappings), also appears to be a quite basic cognitive mechanism or, to use Kwiatkowska’s words, another “cognitive prerequisite” which helps humans cope with the surrounding world. It seems that, similarly to the ability to make intra-­domain mappings, humans share the ability to make intra-­category mappings with some species of animals. A well-­known experiment carried out by Gardner and Gardner (1969) showed that chimpanzees have this ability. Washoe (the chimpanzee who took part in the experiment and was taught to use sign language) reportedly used more than a hundred words/signs (such as window, woman, fruit or the famous water bird). Most, if not all, of the words used by the chimpanzee denoted categories. Washoe, however, most of the time, used them with reference to one element of a given category. For example, when she wanted a banana she would sign: more fruit, or when she spotted and pointed at a particular swan she would sign: water bird. It seems then that she produced what we could call without much exaggeration sign

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67

synecdoche (generic for specific). Kwiatkowska (2007: 298) gives an example which may suggest that the ability is characteristic of other species of animals too. In a documentary on the Animal Planet channel, a woman told a story of her dog who had been hit by a car. He survived, but he was afraid of all cars from then on; the woman even claimed that he hid under the bed whenever he was confronted with her son’s toy car!16

2.2.3 Are metonymy and synecdoche really different modes of thought? Jakobson (1956, 1971) distinguishes only between two basic modes of thought reflected in general human behaviour and in language, namely the metaphoric and the metonymic pole. To use Jakobson’s words: In a well-­known psychological test, children are confronted with some noun and told to utter the first verbal response that comes into their heads. In this experiment two opposite linguistic predilections are invariably exhibited: the response is intended either as a substitute for, or as a complement to the stimulus. (1971: 68, author’s emphasis)17

Jakobson does not deny the existence of synecdoche but subsumes it under metonymy. Such an approach is also common among cognitive linguists. 16 17

This example may seem anecdotal, but if it turned out to be true, it would point to the advanced ability of dogs to include even very non-­prototypical members into categories. To define the two processes Jakobson used Saussure’s terminology. Metonymy was said to be a syntagmatic (in praesentia) relation (based on contiguity) and metaphor a paradigmatic (in absentia) relation based on similarity. As Nerlich (2010) points out, however, “syntagmatic” was used by Jakobson “in a rather ‘metaphoric’ way, as designating any linguistic or real co-­occurrence of entities.” Also Warren (1995: 137–138), following Cooper (1986: 135–139), notes the “flaw” of Jakobson’s argument who transferred contiguity from applying between referents of words (between e.g. bottle and champagne) to linear contiguity between words in a sentence. As Warren argues, “there are no metonymic relations between let’s and finish and the champagne in Let’s finish the champagne” (qtd in Nerlich 2010).

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Lakoff and Johnson (1980: 36) and Croft (1993: 350), similarly to Jakobson, treat synecdoche as a subtype of metonymy.18 On the other hand, Seto (1995, 1999), Burkhardt (1996), Nerlich and Clarke (1999, 2001), or Nerlich (2010) claim that metaphor, metonymy, and synecdoche constitute three basic “cognitive strategies.” Metaphor, metonymy and synecdoche are three fundamental ways in which language conveys mental representations. They form the three corners of what Seto calls “the cognitive triangle” (Seto 1999). Metaphor is based on “seeing similarities” (e.g. She is the sun of my life), metonymy is based on “exploiting connections” (e.g. I am giving a paper), and synecdoche is based on understanding relations between categories, on “understanding class inclusion” (e.g. Give us our daily bread). (Nerlich and Clarke 2001b: 77)

At first glance, the two approaches presented above appear mutually exclusive. They do not necessarily have to be, however. While it may be true that there are only two modes of thought, according to the results of the experiment carried out by Jakobson (i.e. an in absentia relation (based on substitution), and an in praesentia relation (based on contiguity)), it may also be true that one of the modes of thought (the one based on contiguity) occurs in two different variants.19 As Nysenholc (1981: 311) notes, we can distinguish two types of contiguity. In fact there can be two types of contiguity: a contiguity in comprehension between characters or details of one and the same element, in other words between semes of one and the same field of semes. And a contiguity in extension between phenomena of one whole, between species of one genus, that is to say between fields of semes which belong to the same associative field. (Trans. Nerlich 2010: 309)

18 19



For Lakoff and Johnson’s (1980: 36) definition of synecdoche see Section 2.2. Interestingly enough, Lakoff and Johnson (1980) and Lakoff (1987), who like Jakobson (1956), do not recognize the independent status of synecdoche, also note that there are two types of contiguity. Based on this observation, however, Lakoff (1987) distinguishes two kinds of metonymy: – metonymic models of individuals, which seem to correspond to metonymy and – metonymic models of categories, which seem to correspond to synecdoche, in Seto’s (1995, 1999) or Nerlich and Clarke’s (1999) understanding.

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Nerlich, following Nysenholc, adds that “[b]oth metonymy and synecdoche are figures of contiguity,” but [m]etonymy is based on our world-­knowledge about space and time, cause and effect, part and whole [and] synecdoche is based on our taxonomic or categorical knowledge. Metonymy exploits our knowledge of how the world is, synecdoche of how it is ordered in our mind.20

It would appear then, that the very nature of metonymy and synecdoche appears to be the same. In both processes one entity provides access to another entity within the same conceptual structure. Both phenomena are then based on some kind of contiguity or, in other words, are in praesentia relations. They differ, however, in terms of the type of conceptual structure in which they occur. Metonymy has its bases in the real world and synecdoche results from the conception of categorical hierarchy in our mind. Thus, despite the similarities, classifying synecdoche as a subtype of metonymy seems hardly felicitous. It seems that we should keep Jakobson’s distinction into two basic modes of thought with the proviso that the mode of thought which is based on contiguity occurs in two different variants (metonymy and synecdoche) (Figure 17).21,22

20 Seto uses very similar wording and claims that metonymy is “based on the perception of contiguity in the real world” and synecdoche “on the conception of categorical hierarchy (i.e. hyponymy) in our mind” (1999: 94). 21 It should also be noted that only metaphor and metonymy are normally considered to be the mechanisms of linguistic change (cf. Nerlich and Clarke 1992 or Nerlich 2010). The trick of being innovative and at the same time understandable is to use words in a novel way the meaning of which is self-­evident. But there are only two main ways of going about that: using words for the near neighbours of things you mean (metonymy) or using words for the lookalikes (resemblars) of what you mean (metaphor). (Nerlich and Clarke 1992: 137) Synecdoche, reduced as it is, is the least innovative of these procedures, and could therefore be regarded, not as a mechanism of semantic innovation, but as a mechanism of semantic variation rather than innovation or change. It would therefore be right to maintain metaphor and metonymy as the two basic mechanisms of semantic change. (Nerlich 2010)

22 Nerlich (personal communication (May 2010)) agrees with the division proposed by the author of this book.

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figures of speech

metaphor

metonymy synecdoche

(entity related) (category related) Figure 17. Figures of speech

2.2.4 Types of category related transfer Synecdoche, according to Seto and others (e.g. Burkhardt 1996 or Nerlich and Clarke 1999), is a category related transfer (category understood in the Cognitive Linguistic sense, as a prototypical category). In a prototypical category the more representative element is often used to “stand for” the category as a whole. According to Rosch’s goodness-­of-­example rating tests, for instance, gun is judged to be more representative of the category weapon than dagger, whip, or foot (qtd in Ungerer and Schmid 1996: 13).23 Consequently, gun often comes to “stand for” the whole category weapon. Lewandowska-­Tomaszczyk argues that: Categorical hierarchies have been shown to be organized not in a regular taxonomic model but rather into distributionally uneven levels. It is the middle levels of a hierarchy that represent the psychologically most salient basic levels e.g. in the hierarchy mammal – dog – dachshund, it is the category dog which is basic. The basic level, being also the name of the whole category (e.g. dog), which includes all lower taxa, stands closest to the prototypical exemplar of that category both in terms of its gestalt, image schematic, as well as typicality properties. (1994: 6) 23

The prototypes may shift depending on the context and may be completely different from the non-­contextualized prototypes elicited in goodness-­of-­example experiments.

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Thus, to use Lewandowska-­Tomaszczyk’s words, the category weapon often happens to “stand closest to the prototypical exemplar of that category” (gun), which, for that reason, comes to “stand for” the whole category. This type of relation, based on our taxonomic or categorical knowledge, has an “upward” (hyponym – hyperonym) orientation (specific for generic) or, as Seto argues, is a transfer “from a less comprehensive category (species) to a more comprehensive category (genus)” (1999: 114). Let us consider a few examples of this transfer: (41) A special police task force has been set up to combat gun-­running and drug dealing (Cambridge International Dictionary of English). (42) a pencil case (Seto 1999: 114). Gun-­running (Example (41)) is the activity of bringing weapons/firearms (in general, not only guns) into a country illegally. Thus, gun in the expression refers to the weapon/firearm category.24 The pencil in Example (42), on the other hand, refers to all writing instruments. Apart from nominal there are also numerous verbal examples of the transfer. Consider: (43) If you wanted to bury, burn, or ship refuse in the Chicago area, you had to cut him in on the action (Seto 1999: 114). Here, the range of the denominal verb to ship has been extended from marine vessels to any means of transportation. The other type of relation based on our taxonomic knowledge has a “downward” orientation (hyperonym – hyponym), or, to use Seto’s words, is a transfer “from [a] more comprehensive [category] (genus) a less comprehensive (species)” (1999: 114).25 For example: (44) He fired his weapon into the air. 24 The other part of the expression (i.e. running) is clearly metonymic. 25 Interestingly, in their article Sullivan and Sweetser (2009) discuss the supposedly metaphoric rather than metonymic or synecdochic nature of the generic-­specific relation.

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(45) I got a ticket again (Seto 1999: 114). (46) My, my, you’re certainly a sight (Seto 1999: 114). In Example (44) the superordinate term (weapon) is used with reference to a prototypical element of the category (e.g. a gun). In Examples (45) and (46) general nouns (a ticket or a sight) are also used to convey more specific senses than they may really mean (e.g. a traffic ticket and a terrible sight). An extreme example of this type of transfer is: (47) Now that he’s been promoted he thinks he’s really somebody (=“an important person”) (Seto 1999: 115). Apart from nominal, Seto also gives verbal and adjectival examples of the genus to species transfer: (48) You can’t hit (= you can’t hit (a ball) well). (49) Naperville is ringed by genteel tract houses on sizable lots (= rather large) (1999: 115). The adjectival and verbal examples provided by Seto are similar to the ones given by Voßhagen (1999: 294) and Radden and Kövecses (1999: 32), who note that the whole scale is sometimes used for the upper end of a scale, as in: (50) Henry is speeding again (= Henry is going too fast).26,27 More importantly, however, Voßhagen (1999: 289–308) notes that a concept may sometimes “stand for” its opposite (i.e. another concept within the same category) as in Example (36) (He’s got a wicked tape collection for

26 Neither Voßhagen nor Radden and Kövecses seem to recognize a separate status of synecdoche and classify the examples as metonymies. 27 The opposite relation (the upper end of the scale for the whole scale) is also possible, for example, How old are you? (= what is your age).

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He’s got an excellent tape collection).28 This leads us to the conclusion that there is also a third type of synecdoche, which seems to have been overlooked by Seto (1995 and 1999), that is, the species for species transfer.29,30 Some examples of this transfer are provided by Lakoff (1987: 89).31 Lakoff notes that cognitive reference points often “stand for” other elements of their categories. A hundred, for example, which is a culturally stipulated cognitive reference point, often comes to “stand for” other non-­basic numbers (as in Example (40) I’ve told you a hundred times for: I’ve told you several times). Lakoff (1987: 89) gives other examples of this kind. Consider the following: Subjects will judge statements like 98 is approximately 100 as being true more readily than statements like 100 is approximately 98. This, of course, is context dependent. For example in discussing fevers, where normal body temperature is 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit, it would be quite normal to say 99 is approximately 98.6. The reason of course, is that 98.6 is a cognitive reference point where fever is concerned.

The third type of synecdoche has also been noted by Nysenholc (1981: 123). Nysenholc proposes a novel distinction between vertical synecdoche (genus to species or species to genus) and horizontal synecdoche (species to species).

2.3 Other (non)metonymic relations At the beginning of Chapter 1 the following definition of metonymy was adopted (Kövecses and Radden 1998: 39):

28 29

For a more detailed analysis of that example see Section 1.3 on contiguity. Seto seems to recognize only two types of synecdoche. “Logically there are two types of synecdoche: one is a transfer from a less comprehensive category (species) to a more comprehensive (genus); the other is the transfer form a more comprehensive (genus) to a less comprehensive (species)” (1999: 114). 30 This has also been suggested by Nysenholc (1981) and Nerlich (2010). 31 Lakoff, however, classifies the examples as metonymies.

74 Chapter 2 Metonymy is a cognitive process in which one conceptual entity, the vehicle, provides mental access to another conceptual entity, the target, within the same domain or ICM.

Some scholars claim, however, that this definition, useful as it is, is too broad and covers cases which should not be treated as metonymy. Let us now have a closer look at those cases. 2.3.1 Contingency Panther and Thornburg propose that the relation between the metonymic source and the metonymic target should be regarded as contingent; in other words, under this view, metonymic links do not exist by conceptual necessity. This assumption entails that a metonymic relation is, in principle at least, defeasible or cancellable. (2007: 240, author’s emphasis)32

Panther and Thornburg use the following examples to illustrate their point: (51) The piano is in a bad mood. (52) The loss of my wallet put me in a bad mood (2004: 98). Panther and Thornburg argue that in both examples one element (in Example (51) the subject noun phrase the piano and in Example (52) the sense of the loss of my wallet) provides mental access to another element (the concept of piano player in Example (51) and the concept of non-­ possession (of the wallet) in Example (52)) but only Example (51) qualifies as metonymic. [T]he relationship between “loss” and “non-­possession” is conceptually necessary, i.e. the proposition presupposed by the referring expression the loss of my wallet in [52], “I lost my wallet at time t,” entails “I did not have my wallet for some time period beginning at time t.” In contrast, in sentence [51], the relationship between

32

Also Panther and Thornburg (2003a and 2004).

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the piano and the piano player is contingent; the presupposition “There is a (contextually unique) piano” does not entail “There is a piano player.” In other words, there is no metonymy loss for non-­possession, but there is an often exploited metonymy musical instrument for musician. (2004: 99)

At first glance, the view advanced by Panther and Thornburg seems appealing. On reflection, however, it does not appear to allow for a clear distinction between metonymic and non-­metonymic cases. Panther and Thornburg claim that “a metonymic relation is, in principle at least, defeasible or cancellable” (2007: 240). Yet, in the example they give the metonymic reading does not appear to be cancellable. Consider: (53) a.  The piano is in a bad mood (= the piano player – metonymic reading). b. ?? The piano is in a bad mood (= the instrument – non-­metonymic reading). Evidently, in Example (53b), the piano cannot refer to the instrument. In another example given by Panther and Thornburg the metonymic relation does not seem to be cancellable either. In a hospital context where one nurse says to another, The ulcer in room 506 needs a special diet, the link between the ulcer in room 506 and the patient with an ulcer in room 506 is a contingent link; it is not conceptually necessary that the ulcer belongs to the patient in room 506. (2007: 240–241)

Still, it is difficult to imagine that in the given context the ulcer could refer to anything else but the patient with an ulcer. Moreover, Panther and Thornburg themselves admit that: the meaning “piano player” [in Example (53)] for piano does not seem to be defeasible in the given context. (2004: 99, author’s emphasis)

and add that defeasibility and contingency are not necessarily synonymous: a relation between concepts may be contingent, i.e. conceptually non-­necessary, but in a given linguistic and/or communicative context the target meaning may still be uncancellable. (author’s emphasis)

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However, it is difficult to accept that the relation between concepts in metonymy has to be contingent (i.e. conceptually non-­necessary). Let us consider an oft quoted example of the face for the person metonymy: (54) She is just a pretty face. As mentioned in Section 1.3.2, a given concept, as a rule, presupposes its base domain (and often a complex combination of domains – a domain matrix). In Example (54) the base domain for face is person (body). The concept face therefore always presupposes its base domain – person (body), and the relation between them cannot possibly be, as Panther and Thornburg suggest, conceptually non-­necessary. The example Panther and Thornburg give (The piano is in a bad mood) is obviously different. The relation between piano player and piano is contingent (conceptually non-­necessary) because piano is not directly profiled in the piano player domain or, in other words, piano does not necessarily presuppose piano player. Let us now consider a quote from Langacker (1987: 163): The entity designated by a symbolic unit can […] be thought of as a point of access to a network. The semantic value of a symbolic unit is given by the open-­ended set of relations […] in which this access node participates. Each of these relations is a cognitive routine, and because they share at least one component the activation of one routine facilitates (but does not always necessitate) the activation of another.

To use Langacker’s words, the activation of piano in Panther and Thornburg’s example, facilitates the activation of piano player (the relation is contingent) but the activation of face necessitates the activation of the person the face belongs to (the relationship does not seem to be contingent). It seems then that according to Panther and Thornburg’s view the relations which arise between a concept and its base do not qualify as metonymic, as the concept as a rule presupposes its base and thus the relation is never contingent. Furthermore, Panther and Thornburg admit that although the link between loss and non-­possession does not qualify as metonymic (given the contingency criterion), the converse relation “may be used […] for metonymic purposes since it is contingent: Oh, I don’t have my wallet

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may metonymically ‘stand for’ Oh, I lost my wallet” (2007: 241). On the same grounds Panther and Thornburg (2007: 241) argue that generalization is not a metonymic process (the species for genus relationship, e.g. aspirin for any pain relieving tablet), but the converse relation – specialization (the genus for species relationship, e.g. the pill for birth control pill) is. However, as Radden and Kövecses note, “unlike metaphorical mappings, which tend to be unidirectional, metonymic mappings are in principle reversible.” Radden and Kövecses also add that the bidirectional character of metonymy “was implicitly noticed in traditional approaches by listing both directions of a metonymic relationship such as cause for effect and effect for cause, genus for species and species for genus, etc.”33 Interestingly, aspirin used with reference to any pain relieving tablet is an example of species for genus relationship and The loss of my wallet put me in a bad mood is an example of cause for effect relationship. In conclusion, although there may be a need to constrain the scope of metonymy, the contingency criterion suggested by Panther and Thornburg, does not seem to be particularly well suited for that purpose. 2.3.2 Facetization and zone activation Other noteworthy attempts at restricting the scope of metonymy have been made by Paradis (2003, 2004, 2005a, 2005b), Cruse (2004), Kosecki (2006), and later Geeraerts and Peirsman (2011), who analyse examples of zone activation and facetization. The term active zone was introduced in 1984 by Ronald Langacker, who defined it as “[that] portion of a trajector or landmark that participate[s] directly in a given relation” (1984: 177). Facetization, was introduced by Cruse (1995), and according to, for example, Paradis (2003, 2004) occurs with concepts that have so-­called meaning 33

In the light of Seto’s (1995, 1999) or Nerlich’s (2010) findings, for example, the species for genus and genus for species relations should be considered synecdochic rather than metonymic since they are category rather than entity related. For a detailed analysis see Section 2.2.

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“facets.”34 These facets are all “on a par with one another” (2004: 246), but one of them is usually selected when a specific context is introduced. Paradis and Kosecki argue that such phenomena as facetization or zone activation should be excluded from the scope of metonymy.35 Paradis proposes a three-­way classification into: metonymy, facetization, and zone activation and explains the differences between the phenomena in the following way: [m]etonymization, facetization and zone activation are special cases of construals of salience. They form a continuum from mappings between lexical items and concepts that emerge through conventional modes of thought through highlighting of certain aspects of lexicalized meanings. Metonymization is a process of concept mappings which involve different senses. Facetization is a process of highlighting of a part of a sense, and zone activation is qulia highlighting within both senses and facets. Metonymization involves a conventional mode of thought, while facetization and zone activation rely on conventional lexical encodings. On this definition, metonymy is a special case of a construal of salience. Metonymy stops at the level of senses, where a conventional mode of thought is responsible for the reading, not a conventional mapping between a lexical item and a reading. (2003: 14)

Paradis gives the following examples of the three phenomena (2003: 2): (55) The red shirts won the match (metonymization). (56) The court had to assume that the statement of claim was true (facetization). (57) Fill it up, please (= the glass) (zone activation). The attempt of Paradis (2003, 2004, 2005a, 2005b) and Kosecki (2006) to limit the scope of metonymy is salutary, but there are issues which merit discussion. First, according to Paradis (2005a), “metonymies make use of 34 Cruse (1986) also uses the term conceptual modulation. See also Lakoff (1987: 418) or Taylor (2003: 146). 35 Geeraerts and Peirsman (2011: 89), take a slightly different stance and argue that facetization indeed is a subtype of metonymy, but zone activation is a different phenomenon due to the lack of a shift of reference.

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two different concepts/senses, which, conventionally, are activated by two different lexical items” (e.g. red shirts and players in Example (55)). Facets of a concept, on the other hand, coexist “under one and the same lexical expression” (2003: 13) (e.g. court in Example (56)). However, metonymy, as was shown in Section 1.1, is a conceptual phenomenon rather than a mere linguistic matter. It is a phenomenon which occurs between concepts, which may, but certainly do not have to, be verbalized. Thus, many, if not most examples of metonymy, do not show up in language at all. What is more, even in the metonymies that are reflected in language the target is not always expressed by a different lexical item. As Panther and Thornburg note (2007: 240) one can speak of a linguistic metonymy “when the source content [not necessarily the target] is expressed by a linguistic sign (a lexeme or a syntagmatic combination of lexemes).” Moreover, it is true that players and shirts (Example (55)) can be activated by different lexical items, but so can court and people working in the court (e.g. the courthouse or court building, and the judges, jurors, prosecutors, or barristers respectively) (Example (56)). Inversely, concept player usually automatically evokes concept shirt, just as concept court automatically evokes concepts location, administrative unit and people. Thus, one could say that shirt, football boots, and other numerous elements of the player domain coexist under “the same lexical expression” – the player, just as the location, administrative unit and people coexist under the lexical expression – the court. Second, Paradis (2003: 2) claims that facets of senses “reside in the same conceptual envelope” and thus “there is no inter-­conceptual mapping going on in facetization. There is only highlighting of one of the facets of the concept.” However, this criterion does not seem to allow for a clear distinction between metonymization and facetization either. It seems that not only court and people working in the court, but also players and shirts, to use Paradis’s terminology, “reside in the same conceptual envelope.” In fact, it would be very difficult to imagine a professional football player without a shirt nowadays. A shirt is an item of the players’ equipment specified by the Laws of the Game and it is by far the most important part of the players’ attire based on which a given

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player is normally recognized on the pitch.36 Still, even if it was not so, shirt was evidently the most salient element of the player domain for the speaker who uttered the sentence (Example (55)) and, at least at the time and for the particular speaker, it must have belonged to the player domain. Thus, it seems that concept player may activate concept shirt in the same way concept court activates concept people working in the court. The difference between the relations (between players and shirts and court and people in Paradis’s examples) is obviously that the former (shirts for players) is of the pars pro toto type and the latter (court for people) is of the totum pro parte type. As mentioned in Section 2.1, metonymic relations are in principle reversible and although it may be difficult to imagine a context where a player would refer to shirt, it is not impossible. One could imagine, for example, a coach distributing newly purchased shirts/jerseys to the players, saying: (58) All right boys, this one is player one, and that one is player two. (player one = the shirt (jersey) for player one) There are also numerous other totum pro parte examples of that sort. Consider: (59) He’s got a Picasso in his den. (60) Exxon has raised its prices again. (61) The White House isn’t saying anything. (62) Paris is introducing longer skirts this season (Lakoff and Johnson 1980: 38–39).37 These examples do not seem to differ from Paradis’s example of facetization (56). Exxon, for instance, refers to the company’s management or CEO and the White House refers to the President of the United 36 37

Source: . The examples were used in Section 1.1.2 and are repeated here for convenience.

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States or his cabinet, just as the court refers to the people working in the court. Thus, if we decided to treat examples like (56) as non-­metonymic, we should probably exclude from metonymy all other totum pro parte relations. What is more, Paradis (2003: 11–12) and Kosecki argue that “facetization operates also when entities are identified by their salient properties” (Kosecki 2006: 180). According to Kosecki, such examples as (63) How do I find Mr Right? (Radden and Kövecses 1999: 36), treated by Radden and Kövecses as instances of the metonymy salient property for category, cannot be regarded as metonymic.38 Still, if we accepted that reasoning, we would probably also have to regard other pars pro toto relations as non-­metonymic (other relations where the most salient property activates the whole domain).39 Consider the already quoted examples (repeated here for convenience): (64) Get your butt over here (Lakoff and Johnson 1980: 38). (65) We don’t hire longhairs (Lakoff and Johnson 1980: 38). (66) She is just a pretty face (Panther and Thornburg 2007: 238). On the same grounds we would probably also have to regard all examples of specific for generic synecdoche as examples of facetization. Third, Paradis (2003: 2) argues that “out of context” two elements of a metonymic relation “represent two distinct senses that evoke the idea of two different entities [which] [i]n the context given, […] are associated by conceptual contiguity.” In facetization, on the other hand, a concept (e.g. court) “out of context” necessarily calls up all its facets (e.g. administrative unit, premises and people/staff). 38 39

It seems that Example (62) is an instance of the metonymy salient property for entity rather than category (the salient property provides access to entity person rather than the whole category). For a discussion on the pars pro toto relations see Section 2.4.

82 Chapter 2 Either of the facets of meaning can be distinguished if the context calls for it. Inversely, all three may be jointly referred to without discrimination.

Unfortunately, this claim does not seem very convincing either since there always seems to be some context, either explicit or implicit. As Lanin (1977: 288) notes, “you can take the sentence out of the discourse but you can’t take the discourse out of the mind of the speaker.” It seems highly unlikely then that all the facets of a concept can be jointly referred to without discrimination. Consider a quote from Taylor. In talking about an entity, we frequently highlight different aspects of its constitution. Langacker (1984) refers to this as the “active zone phenomenon;” certain facets of an entity are more “active” in a conceptualisation than other aspects. When we wash a car we have in mind the car’s exterior, when we vacuum-­clean the car we highlight its upholstered interior […]. (2003: 325)

Let us now consider examples of zone activation. (67) • Roger blinked. • Roger ate an apple. • Roger heard a noise. • Roger walked faster. • Roger is digesting. • Roger figured out the puzzle. • Roger whistled. • Roger peeled an orange. • Roger licked the popsicle. • Roger breathed hard (Langacker 1990: 191).40 One could obviously add numerous other examples to the list. Consider the following:

40 The examples come from Concept, Image, and Symbol: The Cognitive Basis of Grammar by Langacker (1990).

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(68) • What’s that smell? Is it Roger? • Roger will go to heaven when he dies. • Come on Roger! Jump! (in a video game). • Roger skidded on the ice and crashed (into another car) (Cambridge International Dictionary of English).41 • Where has Roger parked? • Is this Roger? (= a picture of Roger or just Roger’s face in the picture). In the examples given above there is evidently only one highlighted facet. Still, Paradis is not alone in claiming that it is actually possible to jointly activate all the facets of a concept. Let us consider an interesting example given by Cruse (2004: 85), who analyses the facets of book: [tome] and [text]. Cruse, who, like Paradis, draws a line between metonymy and facetization and claims that there are “predicates applicable to book which attach themselves to both facets simultaneously.” Consider: (69) to publish a book. Cruse notes that “[i]t is not possible to publish something which does not comprise both a text and some physical manifestation.” It is true that a book normally comprises the two elements, and the predicate publish may attach itself to both of them. The word simultaneously, however, does not seem to be felicitous, since one cannot concentrate on both facets at the same time. Humans have certain perceptual limitations, which were well described by Gestalt psychologists. For example, looking at the well-­ known picture by Edgar Rubin (1915) we can either focus our attention on the faces or on the vase – never on both of them (see Figure 18 ()).

41 In the original example the personal pronoun we is used instead of Roger.

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Figure 18. Rubin’s vase (1915)

The same seems to be true of Cruse’s example. Although we are probably aware of the two facets ([tome] and [text]) when we hear Example (69), there is no way we can focus our attention on both of them at the same time (one facet is the figure and the other one is the ground). The phrase to publish a book might, at first glance, seem ambiguous but we normally resolve the ambiguity for ourselves because, as Lanin notes (1977: 288), we have the context in our minds. This is also why it is not normally possible to maintain the ambiguity in the ensuing discourse. Consider: (70) a. They published a new book. It’s very interesting [= text]. b. They published a new book. Unfortunately, the cover is a mess [= tome].

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In Example (70a), the speaker, although aware of the “physical manifestation” of the book, concentrates on the [text] facet. In Example (70b), on the other hand, the speaker, although aware of the [text], highlights the [tome] facet. One could even imagine a speaker shifting the profile from [text] to [tome] in one sentence, saying: (71) The book they published is very interesting, but it is awfully heavy to carry around.42 Highlighting both facets simultaneously (either explicitly or implicitly), however, seems hardly possible. The figure/ground effect, as Koch points out (1999: 151–152), seems to be characteristic of metonymy in general. Koch claims that: every concept designated by a given lexical item appears as a figure in relation to (at least) another contiguous concept that – for the time being – remains the ground within the same frame.

Also Panther and Radden (1999: 11) note that in a metonymic relation, both reference point and target “are always present as elements of the conceptual frame, but are highlighted to different degrees.”43 Fourth, Paradis (2003: 13) argues that zone activation, unlike facetization, is “omnipresent and concerns all readings” (it is a phenomenon limited to “qulia highlighting”) and Kosecki (2006: 181) adds that zone activation “can only be formulated as a whole for part relation with respect to the same ontological basis.” However, Langacker, who introduced the term “active zone” into Cognitive Linguistics (1984), argues that zone activation covers a much wider array of cases.

42 This is a paraphrase of an example given by Cruse (2004: 86). 43 The same thing has also been noted by Croft (2003: 179) who claims that “metonymy makes primary a domain that is secondary in the literal meaning.” Croft does not specify the term “literal meaning” and one might reasonably argue that such a notion does not exists at all. For a discussion on literal and figurative language see Section 2.6.

86 Chapter 2 the active zone is often not even a subpart of the entity designated by a nominal expression. Frequently it is something merely associated with the designated element in some characteristic fashion. (1990: 192)

Unfortunately, neither Paradis nor Kosecki explains how their understanding of the terms differs from Langacker’s. Langacker gives the following examples of zone activation: (72) She heard the piano (= the sound emitted by the piano).44 (73) I’m in the phone book (= a symbolic representation of the person’s name, address, and phone number). (74) I smell a cat (= the odour emitted by certain excretions of the cat). Langacker does not seem to differentiate between zone activation and metonymy. Example (75), which Langacker classifies as metonymy: (75) She couldn’t find Tiger Woods in the phone book (the golfer’s name, address, and telephone number) (Langacker 2008: 69), does not differ from an example of zone activation (73) given above. Actually, even one of the most often quoted examples of zone activation (76) is sometimes defined by Langacker as an example of metonymy.45 (76) Your dog bit my cat (1990: 190).46

44 As Langacker notes (1990: 192), “canonically this would be the musical sound produced by playing the piano, but in context it could also be the crashing sound it makes when dropped from a helicopter.” 45 Numerous other linguists do not seem to draw a distinction between facetization, zone activation and metonymy either (cf. Lakoff 1987, Gibbs 1999, Taylor 2003, Szwedek 2011). Also Ruiz de Mendoza (2011), challenges Paradis’s approach and describes facetization as “another label for what Croft (2002/1993) called domain highlighting.” 46 The example is repeated here for convenience.

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Expressions like your dog bit my cat display a kind of metonymy, wherein a pivotal entity (here a part) is referenced only indirectly, via the term for another, associated entity (the whole). (Langacker 2000: 62, author’s emphasis)

Fifth, following Panther and Thornburg (2003a, 2004, 2007), Paradis claims that “[m]etonymization involves the use of a lexical item to evoke the sense of something that is not conventionally linked to that particular lexical item” and argues that “metonymy is a contingent relation that stops at the sense level” (2003: 13–14). However, as was shown in Section 2.3.1, the contingency criterion, suggested by Panther and Thornburg, does not seem to allow for a clear distinction between metonymic and non-­ metonymic cases. Finally, it is also noteworthy that, in the light of Panther and Thornburg’s observations (2004: 103), zone activation and facetization may turn out to be quite prototypical instances of metonymy. Panther and Thornburg claim that in prototypical metonymies the target meaning is conceptually more prominent and consequently “available for further elaboration in the ensuing discourse,” for example, (77) The first violin has the flu. She cannot practice today (example by Panther and Radden 1999: 10). In less prototypical examples of metonymy, according to Panther and Thornburg, the meaning of the target is conceptually less prominent than the meaning of the source. The target is also “unavailable” for the ensuing discourse. Consider: (78) In the morning, Nixon bombed Hanoi; at noon he (= Nixon) had lunch with aides (Topic: Nixon himself ). (79) ?? In the morning, Nixon bombed Hanoi; at noon they (= the pilots) were on some other mission (Panther and Thornburg 2004: 103). Interestingly, in most of the above examples of zone activation and facetization the target seems to be prominent and available for further elaboration. Those examples then, at least according to the assumptions Panther and

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Thornburg make, should probably be treated as quite prototypical instances of metonymy. In the example of facetization given by Paradis (2003: 2): (80) The court had to assume that the statement of claim was true.47 the target meaning people working in the court is more prominent. Similarly, in the above quoted example of zone activation: (81) Roger skidded on the ice and crashed into another car (Cambridge International Dictionary of English),48 the target (car) is more prominent then the source (Roger (person)). It is also the target that is “available for further elaborations in the ensuing discourse.” This is why another car, used in the second clause, is felicitous and another man (which would indicate the prominence of the source) is not. Consider: (82) ? Roger skidded on the ice and crashed into another man. Interestingly, also according to Barcelona, whose understanding of prototypicality of metonymy substantially differs from Panther and Thornburg’s, some examples of facetization should be treated as “typical” metonymies, for example, (83) This book is highly instructive (= [text]) (Barcelona 2003b: 84–85).49 Barcelona claims that in “typical” metonymies the target is a more secondary domain or subdomain of the source. The primary subdomain within the source domain book is, according to Barcelona, the [physical object] subdomain. Thus, Example (83), where the secondary subdomain [text] is highlighted, qualifies as a “typical” metonymy.

47 The example is repeated here for convenience. 48 The example is repeated here for convenience. 49 For a more detailed analysis of prototypicality of metonymy see Section 2.3.

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In conclusion, although there may be some differences between metonymization, facetization and zone activation, it seems hardly possible to draw a clear line between them (at least based on the criteria suggested by Paradis and Kosecki). Wittgenstein (1958) notes that categories are structured by so-­called family resemblance (also called a crisscrossing of similarities by Taylor (1995)),50 not by a set of necessary and sufficient conditions (see for example Figure 19 for selected common attributes and family resemblances of the category bird). Thus, there is usually no conjunctive definition (i.e. a list of common, defining features) for all the elements of a category. The category metonymy is, as it seems, no different in that respect and there is no reason why there should be a conjunctive definition for all its members. Nerlich (2010: 316) comes to similar conclusions. [The] definition of prototypical categories, used in cognitive semantics, could, it seems, be used equally successfully in “cognitive rhetoric.” In this type of rhetoric it would seem that not only the hypercategory of “tropes” is a prototypical category with boundaries and memberships that fluctuate, but that its most prototypical members, namely metaphor, metonymy, and synecdoche also exhibit all signs of being prototypical categories. They, too, exhibit shifting and fluctuating boundaries and category memberships.

It seems then that rather than attempt to restrict its scope, it would be more reasonable to accept that metonymy is a heterogeneous category with more and less prototypical members.51,52 As Geeraerts and Peirsman note (2011), “[z]one activation, as defined by Langacker (1984), may […] 50 It was also shown in numerous other studies, for example, by Rosch and Mervis (1975: 575). 51 Koch comes to similar conclusions and claims that

52

when dealing with linguistic effects that are usually labelled as “metonymy,” we may sometimes doubt that this term really denotes a unitary range of phenomena. Rather, heterogeneity seems to be so typical of “metonymy” that we have to consider repeatedly whether we should exclude certain phenomena from the realm of “metonymy.” However, I am convinced that most, though not all, of the multifarious phenomena subsumed under the label “metonymy” form a unity and that many traditional and modern accounts of this unity converge in one point. (2001: 201)

For a discussion on prototypicality of metonymy see Section 2.4.

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be one of the least homogeneous concepts of Cognitive Linguistics.” This observation may turn out to be true not only of zone activation, but of metonymy as such.

Figure 19. Selected common attributes and family resemblances of the category bird (Ungerer and Schmid 1996: 30). Reproduced with permission from the authors

2.4 Prototypicality of metonymy It was argued above that metonymy may be a prototypical category. It was not clarified, however, which elements of the category should be considered prototypical and which peripheral. Let us now address a few approaches to this problem.

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Croft (2003: 180) notes that zone activation or facetization are sometimes classified as peripheral instantiations of metonymy since “the elements profiled [in the phenomena] are highly intrinsic.” Such an approach is in line with Barcelona’s understanding of prototypicality of metonymy (2003b: 84–85). Barcelona argues that an instance of metonymy should be classified as “prototypical” if it is referential and has an individual or “a collective individual” as target, for example, (84) Belgrade did not sign the Paris agreement, where Belgrade (the source) refers to the Yugoslav government (the target – a collective individual).53 Apart from “prototypical” metonymies Barcelona also distinguishes “typical” metonymies, and “purely schematic” or “peripheral” metonymies.54 “Typical” metonymies are not referential and/or their target is not an individual, for example, (85) She’s just a pretty face (which, according to Barcelona, is not referential). (86) He walked with drooping shoulders. He had lost his wife (where the target is a property (an emotional state)). 53 54

Currently it may refer to the Serbian government. In another article Barcelona (2003c: 245–246) gives the following definitions of the three types of metonymy: A schematic metonymy is a mapping, within one cognitive domain, of a cognitive (sub)domain, the source, onto another cognitive (sub)domain, the target, so that the target is mentally activated.



The definition of a typical metonymy presupposes the definition of a schematic metonymy, and runs as follows: A typical metonymy is a schematic metonymy whose target is distinct from the source, either because it is a non-­central subdomain of the source or because it is not included in it.



The definition of a prototypical metonymy, in turn, presupposes that of a typical metonymy: A prototypical metonymy is a typical metonymy with individuals as targets and as referents.

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In “purely schematic” or “peripheral” metonymies the target is a “primary” domain or subdomain of the source, for example, (87) This book weighs two kilograms (where the verb weigh activates the [physical object] subdomain within the source domain book). It is noteworthy that such examples as (88) This book is highly instructive (where the [text] subdomain is activated), are, according to Barcelona, “closer to typical metonymies” (2003b: 85) since their target is a more “secondary” domain or subdomain of the source.55 The three types (“prototypical,” “typical,” and “purely schematic” metonymies), as Barcelona notes (99 f.), “constitute a continuum of metonymicity.” The concept of “continuum of metonymicity” suggested by Barcelona is interesting, but the classification of the above given examples as “prototypical,” “typical” or “peripheral” instantiations of metonymy does not seem very clear. First, it is not clear how Barcelona understands referentiality. In Example (85), which is not referential according to Barcelona (2003b: 85), the noun phrase a pretty face is used predicatively (the person has a pretty face).56 It is, above all, however, also used referentially (the person is pretty). Second, as was shown in Chapter 1 (Section 1.3.2), it is impossible to objectively determine what constitutes a single domain.57 It seems equally impossible to objectively determine which elements of the domain are more primary and which are more secondary. Barcelona claims that the [tome] facet of the book domain is more primary than the [text] facet (Examples (87) and (88)). It seems, however, that it could be reasonably

55 56 57

Croft (2003: 179) comes to similar conclusions and claims that metonymy in general “makes primary a domain that is secondary in the literal meaning.” This was also noted by Panther and Thornburg (2007: 238). See also Section 4.1.

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argued that, at least in some circumstances and for some language users, it is the other way round. Let us now consider Panther and Thornburg’s (2004: 103) understanding of the concept of prototypicality of metonymy. Panther and Thornburg argue that in prototypical metonymies the target meaning is conceptually more prominent and consequently it is available for further elaboration in the ensuing discourse. For example: (89) General Motors had to stop production on Monday but they resumed it on Thursday. (90) North Korea’s willingness to publicly flout its international commitments suggests it is trying to force itself onto Washington’s agenda to win an oft-­stated goal: talks with its longtime foe about a nonaggression treaty. In the first clause in Example (89) both the source meaning (the obligation sense) and the target meaning (the factuality sense) are active, but the but-­clause makes pragmatic sense only if the target is more prominent (if had to stop production receives metonymically derived reading stopped production). Similarly in Example (90) (whose metonymic structure is sketched in Figure 20) both the source meaning (willingness to act) and the target meaning (actual action) are present, but as Panther and Thornburg argue: despite the high degree of activation or salience of the source meaning, the target meaning seems to be conceptually more important and relevant than the source meaning. What the whole newspaper article is about is not so much what North Korea is willing to do as to what it has already done and will do in terms of nuclear weapons development.

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Figure 20. Conceptual prominence of target meaning (Panther and Thornburg 2004: 106). Reproduced with permission from the authors

Examples (89) and (90) also meet the other criterion mentioned by Panther and Thornburg; namely the “availability” of the target in the ensuing discourse. In Example (90), for instance, the metonymic target (actual action – has already developed or will develop nuclear weapons) is, as Panther and Thornburg note, “the starting-­point of future debates about what can be done about this dangerous situation” (2004: 103). Let us consider another example where the target is more prominent and thus available for the ensuing discourse (see also Figure 21).58 (91) The first violin has the flu. She cannot practice today. (92) ?? The first violin has the flu. It is a Stradivarius (Panther and Radden 1999: 10). It is evident that She cannot practice today, where she anaphorically refers back to the target (the first violinist), is a felicitous continuation of 58

Panther and Thornburg use the sax instead of the violin in their example.

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The first violin has the flu, whereas It is a Stradivarius, where the pronoun is coreferential with the reference point (the first violin), is not. In other words, there is, as Panther and Thornburg say (2004: 105), topic continuity between the more conceptually prominent target (the first violinist) and the coreferential pronoun she. Form:

Content:

OBIECT USED

‘the first violin‘

USER

‘the first violinist‘

NORMAL FONT: Conceptually background BOLD FONT: Conceptually proeminent

Figure 21. Conceptually prominent target meaning (Panther and Thornburg 2004: 109). Reproduced with permission from the authors

Let us now turn to an example of what Panther and Thornburg regard as a less prototypical example of metonymy. (93) Nixon bombed Hanoi (Lakoff and Johnson 1980: 39). The meaning that is conceptually prominent in the sentence above is not the one of the indeterminate target (presumably American soldiers), but the one of the source (Nixon) (see Figure 22).

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Form:

Content:

ULTIMATE CAUSER

‘Nixon‘

IMMEDIATE CAUSER

‘U. S. Air Force Pilots‘

NORMAL FONT: Conceptually background BOLD FONT: Conceptually proeminent

Figure 22. Conceptually prominent source meaning (Panther and Thornburg 2004: 108). Reproduced with permission from the authors

The fact that ultimate causer for immediate causer is a more peripheral metonymic relation is, according to Panther and Thornburg, also confirmed by the “unavailability” of the target for the ensuing discourse. Let us consider Examples (94) and (95): (94) In the morning, Nixon bombed Hanoi; at noon he (= Nixon) had lunch with aides (Topic: Nixon himself ). (95) ?? In the morning, Nixon bombed Hanoi; at noon they (= the pilots) were on some other mission (Panther and Thornburg 2004: 109).59 The above examples are about Nixon, rather than the pilots who bombed Hanoi (the source meaning is conceptually prominent). Thus, the target meaning is not available for the ensuing discourse and the pronoun they used in Example (95), which is supposed to refer to the target, sounds rather odd. However, Panther and Thornburg’s understanding of prototypicality of metonymy is far from being universally accepted. For example, Ruiz 59

The examples were used earlier, but are repeated here for convenience.

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de Mendoza (2003) and Ruiz de Mendoza and Pérez-­Hernández (2003) imply that there is nothing unusual or “unprototypical” about greater conceptual prominence of the source. Ruiz de Mendoza (2003) and Ruiz de Mendoza and Pérez-­Hernández (2003) claim that metonymy is limited to matrix domain to subdomain (target-­in-­source) or subdomain to matrix domain (source-­in-­target) relationships and that the matrix domain is always conceptually prominent and consequently available for “antecedentship” (Ruiz de Mendoza and Pérez-­Hernández call it the Domain Availability Principle). The matrix domain may be the explicit element (source) or the implicit element (target) of a metonymic expression (see Figures 23 and 24 in Section 2.5). Consider: (96) The ham sandwich is waiting for his check and he is getting upset. (97) Nixon bombed Hanoi and he killed countless civilians (Ruiz de Mendoza and Pérez-­Hernández 2003: 36). In example (96), the matrix domain is the target of the metonymic shift (it is the implicit element: the customer). In Example (97), on the other hand, the matrix is the source (it is the explicit element: Nixon). Ruiz de Mendoza and Pérez-­Hernández (2003: 36) claim that the selection of the matrix domain for anaphoric reference, rather than a subdomain, may be due to the fact that “the matrix domain is conceptually more salient, since it provides a larger amount of easily retrievable conceptual structure.” Finally, let us consider Radden and Kövecses’s (1999) understanding of the prototypicality of metonymy.60 Radden and Kövecses, similarly to Barcelona (2003b: 99 f.), argue that there is a continuum of metonymies. [W]e have a continuum of motivation ranging from fully motivated default metonymies to weakly or unmotivated non-­default metonymies. (Radden and Kövecses 1999: 51)

60 Radden and Kövecses (1999) use the term default instead of prototypical.

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In default metonymies, according to Radden and Kövecses (1999: 51), the source is selected based on cognitive and communicative principles. The cognitive principles include: • human experience (e.g. human over non-­human: I’ve got a Ford (producer for product)), • perceptual selectivity (e.g. dominant over less dominant: England for Great Britain), • cultural preferences (e.g. basic over non-­basic: I’ve told you a hundred times for I’ve told you several times)61 and the communicative principles include: • the principle of clarity (clear over obscure: The dog bit the cat for The dog’s teeth bit the cat), • the principle of relevance (relevant over irrelevant: The ham sandwich is waiting for his cheque for The customer is waiting for his cheque). Default metonymies are, according to Radden and Kövecses (1999: 51), motivated by a bundle of such principles. For example, (98) We are reading Shakespeare, is allegedly motivated by the principles human over non-­human, concrete over abstract and good gestalt over poor gestalt.62 “Less default” metonymies, follow some principles but violate others. The oft-­quoted example of Lakoff and Johnson’s for instance (1980: 38): (99) The buses are on strike, 61 62

In light of the observations presented in Section 2.2, the example should be classified as synecdochic rather than metonymic. It is disputable, however, whether Shakespeare is more concrete and better gestalt than book. It seems it could be argued that the example actually violates some of the principles rather than follows them.

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is motivated by the cognitive principle interactional over non-­ interactional (passengers “interact” with the buses rather than with the drivers) and the communicative principle relevant over irrelevant (buses are more relevant for passengers than drivers). The example is inconsistent, however, with the cognitive principle human over non-­human. “Non-­default” instances of metonymy are, according to Radden and Kövecses (1999: 53), unmotivated. For example, the euphemistic expression: (100) They did it (= They had sex),63 where the communicative principle of clarity (clear over obscure) is violated, is thought to be a non-­default or “figurative,” as Radden and Kövecses call it, instance of metonymy. The problem with Radden and Kövecses’s theory, however, is that there do not seem to be any “unmotivated metonymies” and any example of metonymy, as a rule, has to be motivated by some principle or principles. Interestingly, even Radden and Kövecses themselves admit that non-­default instances of metonymy are “motivated by a speaker’s expressive needs or a given social situation” (1999:52). If we agree then that all metonymies are motivated by some principle or other, in order to classify metonymies as default or non-­default, we would have to decide which principles are more and which less important. This, however, cannot be done objectively. It is also noteworthy that Radden and Kövecses’s understanding of prototypicality of metonymy may and often does stand in contrast to Barcelona’s understanding of the phenomenon (presented above). For example, Radden and Kövecses claim that the euphemistic expression: (101) to go to the bathroom (= to urinate/defecate) is a non-­default instance of metonymy since it violates the principles central over peripheral, relevant over irrelevant and clear

63

In light of the observations presented in Section 2.2, the example should be classified as a synecdoche (general to specific) rather than metonymy.

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over obscure.64 According to Barcelona (2003c: 245), on the other hand, Example (101) should probably be classified as a typical instance of metonymy. Barcelona claims that in typical metonymies “[the] target is distinct from the source, either because it is a non-­central subdomain of the source or because it is not included in it.” And in Example (101) the target is not included in the source and thus is distinct from the source. Metonymy seems to be a prototypical category. However, there is no agreement among linguists as to which members of the category should be considered more and which less prototypical. This should not be surprising since as Rosch (1975), and later Lakoff (1987), and Taylor (1995) have shown, the degree of category membership can only be subjectively assigned. The results of two experiments carried out by Rosch and Dirven (Tables 1 and 2) show that there are substantial differences in the goodness-­of-­example ratings between two culturally close communities even for such concrete concepts as furniture (Rosch (1975: 229) and Dirven (qtd in Taylor 1995: 57)).65 More abstract concepts, as Taylor notes (1995: 58), may differ even more. It is little wonder then that also the goodness-­of-­example ratings of the category metonymy substantially differ from linguist to linguist. Table 1.  Goodness-­of-­example ratings of the category furniture (informants: American students) Member

Rank

Specific score

chair

1.5

1.04

sofa

1.5

1.04

couch

3.5

1.10

64 The expression is, according to Radden and Kövecses, motivated by the cognitive principle initial or final over middle. 65 Rosch (1975) carried out an experiment in which she asked about 200 American college students to rate, on a scale from 1 (excellent) to 7 (very poor), sixty household items as good or bad examples of the category furniture (Table 1). Some time later Dirven (qtd in Taylor 1995: 58) carried out a small-­scale replication of Rosch’s investigation (Table 2). German-­speaking informants were asked to assign a degree of membership to the category möbel (furniture) to German names of about fifty household items. The tables present first ten members of each of the categories.

Metonymy: The scope Member

101 Rank

Specific score

3.5

1.10

5

1.33

dresser

6.5

1.37

rocking chair

6.5

1.37

coffee table

8

1.38

rocker

9

1.42

love seat

10

1.44

table easy chair

Table 2.  Goodness-­of-­example ratings of the category möbel (furniture) (German-­speaking informants) Member

Rank

Specific score

bed

1.5

1.00

table

1.5

1.00

sofa

3

1.13

cupboard

5

1.20

desk

5

1.20

closet

5

1.20

chair

5

1.20

love seat

8

1.40

chest of drawers

9

1.43

bookcase

10

1.47

2.5 Active zone metonymies: The implications for the pars pro toto relations Dirven (2005), Koch (1999), Truszczyńska (2003) and numerous other researchers propose that there is a relationship between a conceptual structure “as a whole” and one of its parts. Consider the following:

102 Chapter 2 In metonymy, the salient features of the whole domain are mapped onto the subdomain or salient features of the subdomain are mapped onto the whole domain as in the […] example [Mary is a pretty face]. (Dirven 2005: 31, author’s emphasis) [C]ontiguity [should be perceived] as the relation that exists between elements of a frame or between the frame as a whole and its elements. (Koch 1999: 146, author’s emphasis) [One can] distinguish two kinds of metonymy on the basis of ICMs: the first one involves the relation between two elements within an ICM, and the second embraces the pars pro toto synecdochal relation existing between an ICM as a whole and its elements. (Truszczyńska 2003: 224, author’s emphasis)66

Such an approach, however, seems hardly accurate. In light of the observations concerning active zone metonymies presented in Section 2.3.2, the pars pro toto (part for whole) label seems imprecise and misleading. As could be seen in Section 1.3, domain matrices are usually extremely complex and, as was shown in Section 2.3, it is impossible to simultaneously highlight all their subdomains. Therefore, a part cannot possibly provide access to a given domain as a whole. It can only provide access to some other, more inclusive subdomain. To illustrate this point, let us consider the following example: (102) Get your butt over here (Lakoff and Johnson 1980: 38). Lakoff and Johnson claim that butt in Example (102) is the part for the whole metonymy. Butt, however, does not provide access to the person domain “as a whole,” but only to the person’s body. Let us consider another oft-­quoted example by Lakoff and Johnson: (103) The ham sandwich is waiting for his check (1980: 35). It has often been claimed that the ham sandwich (a part) refers to the customer domain “as a whole.” Still, similarly to Example (102), the 66 Truszczyńska’s understanding of synecdoche differs from the one presented in Section 2.2.

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source in Example (103) provides access only to the customer’s corporeality which is a mere fraction of the whole customer domain. It may be argued that “the fraction” is, in many context, very central, but it can hardly be claimed that it is the whole customer domain. To see this more clearly consider other examples. Imagine, for instance, that the waiter receives a generous tip from the customer called the ham sandwich. The waiter could say: (104) The ham sandwich will surely go to heaven when he dies. God bless him! (= his soul will go to heaven). As in Example (103), one might claim that the ham sandwich in Example (104) refers to the customer domain “as a whole.” In fact, however, in this case it only refers to the customer’s spiritual self. Finally, consider an example where the waiter talks about the accident his customer had: (105) You know, the ham sandwich I served yesterday skidded on the ice and crashed into another car on his way home.67 Here again, it is not the whole domain but only its relatively small and peripheral part (car) that is highlighted. It is noteworthy that according to the theory Ruiz de Mendoza (2003) advances, the above analysed examples (102–105) should probably be classified as double metonymies. It may be claimed that in Example (105), for instance, there is a source-­in-­target relationship (in which the ham sandwich (source) refers to customer (target)) and then there is another relationship of the target-­in-­source type (where customer (source) is narrowed down to customer’s car (target)) (see Figures 23 and 24). Similarly, it may be argued that in Example (102) butt refers to person and then person is narrowed down to person’s corporeality.

67 The sentence is a paraphrase of an example given by the Cambridge International Dictionary of English.

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Figure 23. Source-­in-­target metonymy (Ruiz de Mendoza (2003) and Ruiz de Mendoza and Pérez-­Hernández (2003)). Reproduced with permission from the authors

Figure 24. Target-­in-­source metonymy (Ruiz de Mendoza (2003) and Ruiz de Mendoza and Pérez-­Hernández (2003)). Reproduced with permission from the authors

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The term whole is evidently misleading for it should not be understood as the whole ICM as such, but merely as some more inclusive part of the ICM.68 Thus, one might consider changing the infelicitous name the part for the whole for metonymic expansion. Alternatively, one might claim that the part for the whole relation does exist but only as an element of a double metonymic relation (as a source-­in-­target metonymy, which is by necessity followed by a target-­in-­source metonymy).69

2.6 The artificiality of the figurative-­literal distinction Langacker’s (1990) and Barcelona’s (2003b) observations concerning the ubiquity and heterogeneity of metonymy presented in Section 2.3.2 and 2.3.3 have important implications. Namely, they point to the artificiality of the traditional figurative-­literal distinction. Barcelona notes that metonymy should be considered an “omnipresent phenomenon in most linguistic expressions” (2003b: 85). According to this view, we should treat as metonymic not only such examples as: (106) Belgrade did not sign the Paris agreement (= Serbian government), or (107) This book is highly instructive (= the semantic content), where secondary subdomains are activated (and which are classified by Barcelona (2003b) as “typical” instances of metonymy), but also such examples as

68 This probably also holds for synecdochic specific for generic relations. 69 Owing to the fact that the name part for whole is deeply rooted in the cognitive linguistic tradition, however, it has also been used in this book.

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(108) This book weighs two kilograms (= the physical object), where the primary subdomain is activated. This in turn points to the artificiality of the traditional division into metonymic and non-­metonymic or, in general, figurative and literal language. If most (and maybe even all) linguistic expressions are by nature metonymic, it would probably be more accurate to classify them according to the degree of salience or centrality of the target rather than figurativeness and literalness. Giora (2002: 492) comes to similar conclusions and argues that “[t]he distinction […] is not the literal/figurative divide, but the salient-­nonsalient continuum.” On one side of the continuum one could place examples like (106) and also (107), in which, according to Barcelona (2003b: 85), the target “is a non-­ central subdomain of the source” or “it [the target] is not included in it [the source].” On the other side, one could place examples such as (108), in which the target is, according to Barcelona, not distinct from the source, because it is a central subdomain of the source. It should also be noted, however, that it is impossible to decide a priori which elements of a given domain are more and which are less salient. Although the target in Example (108) may be a “primary” or central subdomain of the source for Barcelona, it may equally well be a “secondary” or non-­central subdomain of the source for some other language user. There are no objective criteria that would allow us to decide objectively which of the subdomains of book is primary and which secondary. As Giora notes, [t]o be salient, meanings of words, phrases, or sentences […] have to be coded in the mental lexicon and, in addition, enjoy prominence due to their conventionality, frequency, familiarity, or prototypicality. Meanings not coded in the mental lexicon (e.g. conversational implicatures constructed on the fly) are nonsalient. Coded meanings that are less familiar or less frequent are less-­salient. Thus, for people living in urban societies, the “institutional” meaning of bank is salient and its “riverside” meaning is less-­salient; for Internet freaks, the nonliteral meaning of surf is salient and its literal meaning may be less-­salient. Similarly, for Israelis and Palestinians, the “territorial” sense of The West Bank […] would be more salient than for Canadians. (2002: 490)70

70 Giora’s observations (2002) concern not only metonymy but figurative language in general.

Chapter 3

Metonymy: The functions

The studies of metonymy have mostly concentrated on its referential and illocutionary functions and they have been very well described in the literature to date. However, as for example Littlemore notes (2015: 65), “when we look at metonymy in real-­world data, we can see that it does much more than this.” Littlemore notes that metonymy can serve as a basis for “highlighting and construal, anaphoric reference, cohesion and coherence, exophoric reference, illocutionary acts, relationship-­building and the establishment of discourse communities.”1,2 There is also a range of others, slightly “edgier” (as Littlemore calls them (2015: 92)), communicative functions, such as euphemism, vague language, hedging, evaluating and positioning, humour and irony, which have received surprisingly little scholarly attention. This chapter concentrates specifically on them. Let us begin the discussion with the notion of metonymic highlighting. Croft (2003) claims that metonymic highlighting consists in making a secondary domain the primary one, for example, (109) Proust is tough to read (= Proust’s literary work) (2003: 178–179). According to Croft, the works of Proust are a less central part of the concept Proust than for example the fact that Proust was a person.3 However, for example, Barcelona argues (2003b) and as mentioned in Sections 2.3–2.5,

1 2 3

For a detailed study of the various functions of metonymy see Littlemore (2015). Metonymic highlighting has been described for example by Croft (2003). Also Ruiz de Mendoza and Díez Velasco (2003: 495 f.), who quote Croft, argue that since Proust’s activity as a writer is a less central characterisation of this concept than, for example, the fact that he was a human being, the metonymy in bringing this more secondary feature to the fore, is giving it primary status.

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metonymy should not be limited to the examples where the secondary domain becomes primary, but the examples where there is no shift, that is, where the most central subdomain is highlighted, should also be called metonymies, though perhaps not prototypical ones, for example, (110) Proust spent most of his time in bed (= person) (Croft 2003: 178). Thus, it seems that the term metonymic highlighting should not be limited to examples where a secondary domain becomes primary but should also apply to other, perhaps less prototypical, examples of metonymy, in which the primary domain is the target. As was shown in Section 1.3.2, a given concept (such as Proust) normally presupposes an extremely complex combination of domains (a domain matrix). Because we are unable to simultaneously concentrate on all the domains, we, by necessity, highlight only one of them at a time. More importantly, however, apart from highlighting one of the domains we also background all the others. In Metaphors We Live By Lakoff and Johnson note that metaphors while highlighting some aspects of a concept necessarily background its other aspects (1980: 10). In allowing us to focus on one aspect of a concept (e.g. the battle aspects of arguing), a metaphorical concept can keep us from focusing on other aspects of the concept that are inconsistent with that metaphor. For example, in the midst of a heated argument, when we are intent on attacking our opponent’s position and defending our own, we may lose sight of the cooperative aspects of arguing. Someone who is arguing with you can be viewed as giving you his time, a valuable commodity, in an effort at mutual understanding. But when we are preoccupied with the battle aspects, we often lose sight of the cooperative aspects.



Croft (2003) and Ruiz de Mendoza and Díez Velasco (2003) argue that in the Proust example the literal meaning/the most central subdomain of Proust is the fact that Proust was a person (Proust’s corporeality to be precise). The problem is, however, that there is no way we could objectively decide which subdomain of Proust is most central. Proust (person) may be the most central part of the concept proust for Croft, Ruiz de Mendoza, Díez Velasco, and also for the author of this book. It does not have to be, however, for some other language users (see a quote by Giora (2002: 490) in Section 2.6).

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This seems only natural. We are unable to simultaneously concentrate on two aspects of a concept just as we are unable to simultaneously concentrate on two elements of a picture. As shown, for example, by Rubin (1915; see Figure 18, page 84 – the picture of the vase), if there are two elements in a picture, one of them is normally the ground for the other (the figure). When looking at Rubin’s picture, we can either concentrate on the vase and let the faces fade into the background, or vice versa. The same thing seems to be true of metonymy. As Koch noted (1999: 151–152), metonymy seems to be a kind of figure/ground effect. [E]very concept designated by a given lexical item appears as a figure in relation to (at least) another contiguous concept that – for the time being – remains the ground within the same frame.

Let us now focus on metonymic backgrounding. I suggest that metonymic backgrounding may take on the following forms: 1. backgrounding the target by the source: • in an “upward” (source-­in-­target) orientation, • in a “downward” (target-­in-­source) orientation,4 2. backgrounding the “real” target by the “dummy” target.

3.1 Backgrounding the target by the source As Panther and Radden note (1999: 11), in metonymy, “both reference point and target are always present as elements of the conceptual frame, but are highlighted to different degrees.” In a large number of metonymies it is the target meaning that is highlighted and the source meaning that is backgrounded. However, if metonymy is used to obscure an inconvenient

4

The terms “source-­in-­target” and “target-­in-­source” have been adopted from Ruiz de Mendoza (2003).

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topic, it is the often other way round. To be more precise, the source meaning diverts our attention from the target meaning (the source meaning is highlighted (it is the figure) and the target meaning is obscured (it is the ground)). This type of metonymic backgrounding may have an “upward” or a “downward” orientation. It should also be noted that the mystification is normally only temporary. Over time the target meaning usually comes to the fore and some other inoffensive source has to be selected. As Radden and Kövecses note (1999: 53), “metonymic expressions which are no longer felt to mystify a taboo topic tend to be replaced by new […] metonymies.” For example, nowadays to go to the bathroom “evokes the target sense directly in expressions such as the dog went to the bathroom on the living room rug” (author’s emphasis). Riemer (2003: 379) calls such examples post-­metonymies. [p]ost-­metonymies are originally metonymic semantic extensions which have been generalised and conventionalised so that they no longer depend on the presence of [the source meaning] in their referent: their contexts of use have “overshot” the domains of their original appropriateness.

The process was earlier described by Turner (1973), Quine (1987), and by Pinker (1994) who dubbed it “euphemism treadmill.” Turner (1973: 115) wrote, for example: [w]hat in the good old forthright days was called stool, privy, or jakes was not so called by my parents. They were taught to say W.C. To me this seemed a little too forthright and I learned, presumably at school, to say lavatory. When my small son began kindergarten and was asked if he wanted the toilet, he failed to understand, and so I switched to toilet […].

3.1.1 Backgrounding the target by the source: Source-­in-­target metonymy In order to hinder access to the target, we often select a peripheral element of the frame as the source. For example, the following euphemistic expressions related to defecation focus on the initial and final phases of the complex event (see Figure 25 for a very simplified illustration of a defecation scenario):

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(111) to go to the bathroom (= to urinate/defecate), (112) to wash one’s hands (= to urinate/defecate) (examples from Radden and Kövecses 1999: 53).5

Figure 25. Metonymic backgrounding: source-­in-­target metonymy (source highlighted, target backgrounded)

Similarly, the British expression: (113) to spend a penny (= to use a public lavatory), highlights a peripheral subdomain (source) of the whole defecating/ urinating scenario.6 Highlighting the initial or final stage of a process in order to obscure its taboo stages is also common in euphemisms related to sex. For example, 5 6

Radden and Kövecses claim that the examples are motivated by the conceptual principle initial or final over middle. It seems, however, that the example is actually also (or mainly) motivated by the need to obscure certain taboo activities. The expression refers to the use of coin-­operated locks on public toilets. In the past the expression was used mostly by women because men’s urinals were free of charge ().

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(114) to go to bed with someone (= to have sex with someone – the initial stage highlighted), (115) to sleep with someone (= to have sex with someone – the final stage highlighted). Interestingly, the same subdomains are also highlighted in other languages: (116) English: to go to bed (with someone), Polish: iść do łóżka (z kimś), German: ins Bett gehen (mit jemandem), Spanish: acostarse (con alguien). (117) English: to sleep (with someone), Polish: spać (z kimś), German: schlafen (mit jemandem). Focusing on peripheral elements of the frame can also be seen in euphemistic expressions related to death. Consider the already quoted American expression and a euphemism (repeated here for convenience): (118) He bought the farm. The expression probably originated during the Second World War, when death benefits paid to the family of a fallen soldier were thought to be enough to pay off the mortgage to the farm. Here the focus is on the source (buying the farm) that is very distant from the target (dying). There are numerous other examples of that sort: (119) English: to meet one’s maker, Polish: przenieść się na łono Abrahama (‘to go to Abraham’s bosom’), French: aller ad patres (‘to go to fathers’), (120) English: to be pushing up the daisies, German: Radieschen von unten riechen (‘to smell radishes from below’), Polish: Wąchać kwiatki od spodu (‘to smell flowers from below’),

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(121) English: to bite the dust, German: ins Gras beißen (‘to bite the grass’), Polish: iść do piachu/ gryźć piach (‘to go to the sand’/‘to bite the sand’), (122) English: to put on the wooden overcoat, German: in die Bretter gehen (‘to go in the planks’), French: partir entre quatre planches (‘to leave between four planks’). Examples (120), (121) and (122) are obviously also metaphoric. In (120), for instance, the wooden overcoat metaphorically refers to the coffin. Being put in the coffin (a peripheral element of the dying scenario), however, metonymically refers to dying. Metonymic backgrounding may take on another, more subtle, form. Instead of actually backgrounding the target the source may only impose a certain perspective on it. As Barcelona (2003b: 84) notes, Metonymies are “mappings” in the sense that the source domain is connected to the target domain by imposing a perspective on it. That is, the target domain is understood “from” the perspective imposed by the source.

The word “growth” provides a good example of this phenomenon. In the early 1980s Sir Geoffrey Howe, Chancellor of the Exchequer, apparently spoke of growth going backwards when he meant recession. The phrase was derided and does not seem to have caught on. Still, another seemingly equally illogical expression: negative growth is frequently used and may be found in numerous sources, for example, (123) Brown is the Prime Minister of negative growth, says Osborne.7 (124) The Australian economy has slipped into negative growth for the first time in eight years, raising fears that the country is on the brink of recession.8 7 8

Source: . Source: .

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(125) Britain faces 18 months of negative growth, warns top fund manager Peter Hargreaves.9 (126) Economic growth can be either positive or negative. Negative growth can be referred to by saying that the economy is shrinking.10 According to The Cambridge International Dictionary of English, however, in contrast to what the above-­g iven examples may suggest, growth means “an increase in size or importance” and economic growth is, according to Encyclopaedia Britannica (1985), “an increase in real gross domestic product (GDP).” The word then, at least to the above quoted sources, refers to a positive phenomenon (of getting better, richer, bigger, etc.). It would seem illogical then to talk about it as being negative or going backwards. Example (126) is, for instance, at least at first glance illogical. If economy is shrinking it cannot possibly be growing at the same time. As Hoggart notes, To an economist it is no more ridiculous to talk about “negative growth” than for a physicist to discuss the “heat” of an ice-­cube. (1986: 180)

Negative growth or growth going backwards are “rhetorical tricks” intended to background the negative meaning of recession or crisis.11 Growth in examples given above is probably supposed to refer to a particular statistical scale or a chart rather than an increase itself. It is a source-­in-­target metonymy where the positive end of the scale “stands for” the whole scale (see Figure 26).12 Growth provides access to scale from the perspective of its positive end and thus, at least partially, soothes the fear of recession.

9 10 11

12

Source: . Source: . Interestingly, in the late 1920s recession itself was an American euphemism for crisis and originally meant a milder, short-­term version of depression. Crisis and depression were in turn euphemisms for the nineteenth-­century term panic (see “euphemism treadmill” at the beginning of this section) (Online Etymology Dictionary). Source: .

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Figure 26. Positive end of the scale for the whole scale

Metonymically derived euphemisms (and dysphemisms) of that sort are often used in politics to, as Hoggart notes (1986: 175), “influence public opinion by stealth.” Consider a short exchange from Hansard (qtd in

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Hoggart 186: 175).13 A Labour MP, Jeff Rooker, is debating changes in the political security rules with the Conservative minister responsible, Norman Fowler. (127) Mr Rooker: Are the Government still looking to see where in the system they can make the cuts? Will the Rt. Hon. Gentleman spell it out for us? Mr Fowler: We are examining a number of areas inside the social security system to see if savings can be made (author’s emphasis). Both vehicles (cuts and savings) refer here to the same target – reductions in public expenditure. The two opponents (Mr Rooker and Mr Fowler), however, are trying to highlight the part of the reductions in public expenditure frame that is beneficial for their side of the political fence: Labour is using the dysphemism “cuts” with its overtones of physical violence, and Tories use “savings,” a euphemism which suggests thrift and responsibility. (Hoggart 1986: 175)

3.1.2 Backgrounding the target by the source: Target-­in-­source metonymy Backgrounding the target may also be accomplished by selecting a more inclusive (opaque) domain for the source and highlighting it (see Figure 27), for example, (128) rear (end); backside; behind (= buttocks, anus), Polish: tyłek ([noun] ‘buttocks’) – a dimunitive of tył ([noun] ‘the back’, ‘the rear’), German: der Hintern ([noun] ‘buttocks’) – hinter ([preposition] ‘behind’), Spanish: trasero ([noun] ‘buttocks’) – trasero ([adjective] ‘back’, ‘rear’), French: derrière ([noun] ‘buttocks’) – derrière ([noun] ‘the back’, [preposition] ‘behind’).14 13

Hansard (the Official Report) is the edited verbatim report of proceedings of both the House of Commons and the House of Lords (). 14 Interestingly, anus is also a euphemism (metaphorically derived), which in Latin “literally” means ring (Online Etymology Dictionary).

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Figure 27. Metonymic backgrounding – target-­in-­source metonymy (source highlighted, target hidden)

Behind in Example (128) is a noun which refers to a specific part of the body. However, as an ad hoc metonymy, it could also be used as a preposition with reference to a taboo activity, such as wiping someone’s backside. A fine illustration of such use of backside can be found in a reply by Sir Winston Churchill to an unwelcome letter. (129) Dear Sir, I am in the smallest room of the house and your letter is before me. Very soon it will be behind me (the letter is before me = I’m reading it; the letter will be behind me = I will wipe my backside with it).15 The same tool is used to background the taboo activity of having sex. (130) to make love (‘to have sex’), Polish: kochać się (‘to love’ [reflexive]), uprawiać miłość (‘to make love’), 15

Source: .

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German: sich lieben (‘to love’ [reflexive]), Spanish: hacer el amor (‘to make love’), French: faire l’amour (‘to make love’). The phrase to make love apparently entered the English language towards the end of the sixteenth century as a borrowing from French (faire l’amour) or Italian (far l’amore). From the sixteenth century to the mid-­twentieth century, to make love meant to initiate a sexual courtship or relationship known today as chatting up or flirting (Online Etymology Dictionary and ). Lawrence Paros in The Erotic Tongue (1984) writes that [c]ouples have been making-­love in the sense of paying court or wooing one another since 1580. They’ve been making-­love as we do IT only since around 1950. That meaning wasn’t even formally recognized in our dictionaries until 1976.

Naturally, synecdoche and metaphor are equally, if not more, productive in that respect. Consider, for example the quote from Lawrence Paros given above: (131) They’ve been making-­love as we do IT; (= as we have sex (synecdoche – genus for species)); or examples of metaphors: (132) Jane and I were up all night playing doctor (= having sex (metaphor)), (133) to pass water (= to urinate (metaphor)), to break wind, to cut the cheese (= to pass gas through the rectum (metaphor)),16

16

It may be argued that also to pass gas is “figurative” in that it is a synecdoche of the genus for species type.

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3.1.3 Backgrounding the “real” target by the “dummy” target Metonymy helps us obscure the target not only by highlighting the source, as in the case of euphemisms, but also by highlighting the “dummy target.” This effect can be observed in verbal humour. Let us begin this part with a description of Raskin’s Semantic Script Theory of Humor: Raskin’s Semantic Script Theory of Humor (SSTH, 1985), […] argues that jokes revolve around the opposition, overlap and switch between two (or more) scripts or frames. Jokes, on this view, are partly or fully compatible with two different, (con)textually opposed scripts, only one of which is saliently activated (profiled, primed) […] in the first part of the text. The punch line of the joke turns out to be incompatible with the profiled first script interpretation (incongruity), but there is a lexical cue in the text (script-­switch trigger) that enables the switch or shift from the first interpretation to the second, backgrounded script (resolution). (Brône and Feyaerts 2003: 4)

Raskin notes that jokes make use of two opposed scripts. The first one, called here “dummy,” is highlighted in the first part of the joke and its sole aim is to divert attention from the other, “real” script, which is not revealed until the punch line. As was mentioned in Sections 2.3–2.5, we are unable to concentrate on two elements of the conceptual frame at the same time. Thus, if we are led to follow one metonymic path, we automatically mute or background all other paths. Let us now analyse a few examples to see how this works in practice. (134) A man is sitting in a compartment with a few other passengers and entertains them by telling jokes. “Do you know the one about the police officer and …?” “I must warn you I am a police officer, sir,” one of the passengers interrupts. “Don’t worry,” the man replies. “I’ll tell the joke twice.” The first metonymic inference the listener is supposed to draw is that it may be tactless or even (especially in totalitarian countries) dangerous to tell a joke about a police officer in their presence. The inference is invoked by the phrase: I have to warn you I am a police officer. Police officer in that part refers to the danger they might pose if the joke is told (see Figure 28).

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Activation of this metonymic path blocks the other inference (slowness to understand or stupidity), which is only activated in the punch line (see Figure 29).

Figure 28. The first metonymic inference. The source (police officer) activates the “dummy” target (danger) and conceals the “real” target (stupidity)

Figure 29. The second metonymic inference. The source (police officer) activates the “real” target (stupidity)

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The joke given above is an example of a target-­in-­source metonymy. The same effect may also be triggered by source-­in-­target metonymies. Let us consider an oft-­quoted joke in script-­based humour research. (135) “Is the doctor at home?” the patient asked in his bronchial whisper. “No,” the doctor’s young and pretty wife whispered in reply. “Come right in.” The first part of the joke invokes the visit at the doctor’s office scenario (see Figure 30) and conceals the betrayal scenario. The punch line is incompatible with the first scenario (incongruity), and makes us switch to the other, so far backgrounded one (the betrayal scenario (see Figure 31)).

VISIT AT THE DOCTOR’S OFFICE SCENARIO stage 1:

stage 2:

a patient (male?) arrives at the doctor’s house

the patient (male?) asks if the doctor is in

SOURCE 1

“is the doctor at home?” the patient asked in his bronchial whisper.

stage 3:

SOURCE 2

the doctor’s wife informs the man her husband is away

stage 4: the man is not going to be examined

“No,” the doctor’s young and pretty wife whispered in reply.

Figure 30. visit at the doctor’s office scenario (the “dummy” target) highlighted and betrayal scenario (the “real” target) concealed (source: stages 2 and 3)

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BETRAYAL SCENARIO stage 1:

stage 2:

a man (patient?) arrives at his lover’s house (The man’s lover is the doctor’s wife)

the man (patient?) asks/makes sure the husband (doctor) is NOT in

stage 3:

stage 4:

SOURCE

the doctor’s wife informs the man her husband is away and invites the man in

“is the doctor at home?” the patient asked in his bronchial whisper.

the man and the doctor’s wife make love

“No,” the doctor’s young and pretty wife whispered in reply. “Come right in“.

Figure 31. betrayal scenario (the “real” target) highlighted (source: stage 3)

The same effect is also used in other forms of humour (e.g. in visual humour). Let us consider the cartoon in Figure 32.17

Figure 32. Snake pretending to be a paddling pool (by Canary Pete). Reproduced with permission from the author

17

Source: .

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In the centre of the cartoon above we can see three rings which look like an inflatable pool. There is water inside it and three children are playing in the water. In the background there are some trees. Based on that data we draw an inference that three children are playing in a paddling pool somewhere in the forest. On closer inspection, however, it turns out that the rings, which initially looked like an inflatable pool, are actually a snake, which has set a trap for its prey. Here, similarly to the examples of verbal humour discussed above, the first “dummy” metonymic inference (paddling pool) blocks the other “real” one (snake), which only becomes apparent on closer examination. It seems that mimicry (a form of an antipredator adaptation) used by certain species of animals is also based on the same mechanism (Ruxton, Sherratt and Speed 2004). Broom (1981: 166) describes animal behaviour called thanatosis, a process by which an animal (e.g. a beetle, snake, or opossum) pretends to be dead in order to evade unwelcome attention (e.g. of a predator).18 American opossums, for example, will normally lie still on their sides when a predator approaches them (see Figure 33).19 The inference the predator is supposed to draw is that the opossum is dead (interpret lying motionless as the final stage of the dying scenario).20 Lying motionless could also be an element of the sleeping, resting, being unconscious, or pretending scenarios. The dying scenario, however, at least temporarily, blocks or backgrounds all of them.

18 The word comes from the Greek noun θανάτωσις meaning “putting to death.” 19 Source: . 20 Most predators are not interested in carrion.

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Figure 33. Thanatosis – Virginia opossum (photo by Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife). Reproduced with permission from the author

3.2 Activation of the target by a “foreign” source Metonymy can help us background certain content. It is also interesting to see how certain “foreign” element may sometimes be incorporated into a conceptual frame, to be later used to evoke the frame as a whole (in a pars pro toto relation) or to be evoked itself (in a totum pro parte relation). The observations will also have some implications for the traditional distinction between metaphor and metonymy.21 Let us begin with the experiment carried out by Pavlov. In the 1890s, when investigating the gastric function of dogs, Pavlov noticed that the dogs started to salivate not only in the presence of food but also in the presence of the lab technician who normally fed them (even when the food was not yet

21

For a discussion on the distinction between metaphor, metonymy, and synecdoche see Chapter 4.

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present).22 Pavlov observed that if a particular stimulus was present when the dog was given food, the stimulus became associated with food and caused salivation on its own. In his experiment, the stimulus Pavlov used was a bell. He used it to call the dogs to their food and, after a few repetitions, the dogs started to salivate in response to the bell (Pavlov 1897 [1927]). In other words, the stimulus (the sound of the bell) became part of the eating scenario for the dogs and later started to evoke the scenario “as a whole.”23 A similar experiment was carried out a few years later by Watson and Rayner (1920). Watson and Rayner attempted to show classical conditioning in humans. They chose a nine-­month old child called Albert for their experiment. The first stage of the experiment consisted in placing a white laboratory rat close to Albert and letting him play with it. At that stage the child did not exhibit any signs of fear and began to reach out to the rat and touch it. In the next phase of the experiment, the researchers started making a loud irritating noise (by clanging two pipes together) whenever the rat was present. After a dozen or so pairings of the rat with the noise, Albert started associating the two stimuli and demonstrating signs of distress at the mere sight of the rat (even when the frightening noise was not emitted). One could say then, that, for Albert, at least at the time of the experiment, the frightening noise became part of the conceptual white rat domain.24 Similar as both Pavlov and Watson and Rayner experiments are, it should be noted that the transfers that take place in them are different. In the Pavlovian experiment the relation between the bell (the sound) and eating is of the pars pro toto type, where the sound of the bell is the source evoking the eating scenario. In Watson and Rayner’s experiment, on the other hand, the relationship is of the totum pro parte type, where frightening noise was first incorporated into a more inclusive domain (rat) and started evoking it. Watson and Rayner came to another interesting conclusion. Namely, they observed that after conditioning, stimulus generalization had occurred. 22

Dogs normally salivate in the presence of food. It is an innate response, which Pavlov called “unconditioned.” 23 See also the remarks on the part for whole relations in Section 2.4. 24 It is not clear how lasting the impact of the experiment was (cf. Harris 1979: 151–160).

126 Chapter 3 From the above results it would seem that emotional transfers do take place. Furthermore it would seem that the number of transfers resulting from an experimentally produced conditioned emotional reaction may be very large. (1920: 10)

Albert apparently transferred his fear from the white rat to other white, furry animals and objects (including Rayner’s fur coat and Watson’s Santa Claus beard – Figure 34).25 That was, as one might venture to say, a synecdochic specific to generic transfer, where a negative experience related to one category member (white rat) was transferred onto other category members (white, furry objects and animals).26,27

Figure 34. Little Albert showing signs of distress at the sight of Watson’s Santa Claus beard (copyright free – public domain)

With the fundamentals from behavioural research established, let us now see how classical conditioning or, as one could say, incorporation of an “foreign” element into a conceptual frame, is used in advertising (both commercial and political). As Kwiatkowska notes, one of the major themes of commercial advertising is sex (2007: 302). 25 Source: . 26 Before the experiment Albert was given a number of emotional tests. Apart from a white rat, he was exposed to a rabbit, a dog, a monkey, masks with and without hair, cotton wool, etc. During the tests Albert showed no fear of any of these items. 27 See also Section 4.1.

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Ads for perfumes, alcoholic beverages, and many other products use sexually suggestive imagery, trying to hint that there is a causal connection between the use of these products and sexual attractiveness.

Such advertisements may also imply that the advertised (and normally unrelated to sex) products are part of the sexual contact scenario. Calvin Klein advertisements, for example, are particularly notorious for using this technique. In one advertising campaign, featuring Kate Moss and Mark Wahlberg in provocative poses (metonymically standing for sex), CK jeans are incorporated into the sexual contact scenario (see Figure 35).28 The likely intention of CK Klein advertisers is to create an impression that there is a causal connection between wearing CK Klein jeans and engaging in sexual activity.

Figure 35. Kate Moss and Mark Wahlberg in a CK jeans advertisement

28

Source: .

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In the advertisements, the link between two normally unrelated things is quite implicit. Messaris (1997: xix) notes that there may be at least two reasons for this. The implicitness of visual syntax is arguably a potential mechanism for avoiding the legal implications of certain kinds of advertising claims. For the most part, however, the purposes served by using visual arguments are unrelated to legal concerns. Rather, what is left unspoken by resorting to images is often some assumption or expectation that the ad’s audience itself may not want to confront directly. This aspect of visual argumentation is especially likely to be found in connection with two of the major themes of commercial advertising: sex and social status.

This explains why sexual references are normally implicit. Nonetheless, when the theme of an advertisement is not related to sex, social status or the like, references may get quite explicit. This is the case with one of Carlsberg’s advertising campaigns, where drinking Carlsberg beer is claimed to be part of the playing football, or, more likely, watching football scenario (see Figure 36).29

Figure 36. Carlsberg beer advertised as part of the watching football scenario

29 Source: .

Chapter 4

Metaphor, metonymy, and synecdoche: Problematic issues

Chapter 2 concentrates on various points of difference between metaphor, metonymy, and synecdoche. This chapter, on the other hand, points to the indeterminacy between the three forms of figurative language. It shows that the concept of contiguity may be understood very broadly and consequently the “similarity versus contiguity” criterion often used to distinguish between metaphor and metonymy may become of little value. It also argues that since cognitive domains are understood as “encyclopedic” and normally vary in breadth from speaker to speaker, the classification of a given linguistic expression as metaphoric, metonymic, or synecdochic (based on the one- and two-­domain principle) may only be possible from an individual (subjective) perspective. Finally, this section points to yet another obstacle in classifying a given linguistic expression, that is, to the fact that metaphor, metonymy, and synecdoche may often operate together.

4.1 Contiguity versus similarity Metonymic mappings are believed to take place within a single domain, whereas metaphoric mappings between two discrete domains. In other words metonymy is said to be based on contiguity and metaphor on similarity.1 1

It is worth noting that some scholars (e.g. Brdar and Brdar-­Szabó 2013) discuss the issue of similarity and contiguity and the issue of a one- and two-­domain relationships as two separate differences between metaphor and metonymy.

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It is not exactly clear, however, how contiguity is to be understood. Gibbs claims that [o]ne general, but not perfect, rule-­of-­thumb for distinguishing metaphor from metonymy is to employ the ‘is like,’ or ‘X is like Y’ test. If an expression makes sense in the ‘X is like Y’ form, then it has metaphorical meaning. For instance, the sentence The boxer is like a creampuff makes sense, and thus is metaphorical, while The third baseman is like a glove does not, and thus is metonymic. (1999: 62, author’s emphasis)2

Also Brdar and Brdar-­Szabó (2013: 201) note that metonymy is claimed to be based on contiguity, whereas metaphor is seen as resting on similarity (cf. Ullmann 1962: 212; Taylor 1989: 122). Contiguity is […] taken to cover all associative relations except similarity. (author’s emphasis)

Still, the reasons why similarity should not qualify as a contiguous relation are not clear. Let us consider an example given by Gibbs (1999: 62): (136) The creampuff was knocked down in the boxing match. Gibbs claims that the boxer in the example is viewed as similar to a creampuff in that he is “soft” and thus easy to defeat. Under such an interpretation, creampuff should be classified as metaphoric, since there are two unrelated domains involved in the process (creampuff and boxer). However, are the two domains really unrelated? One of the most important tenets of cognitive semantics is that meaning of words is encyclopaedic (i.e. everything we know about a concept is part of its meaning) (Langacker 1987). For example, one of the things we know about baseball players is that they use gloves. A baseball glove is then part of the baseball player domain matrix and thus is sometimes metonymically used to refer to a baseball player. For example: (137) We need a new glove to play third base (= a new player) (Gibbs 1999: 62). 2

Gibbs refers here to his examples: The creampuff was knocked down in the boxing match and We need a new glove to play third base (1999: 62).

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It seems, however, that one of the things we know about the boxer from Example (136) is also the fact that he bears some resemblance to a creampuff. If everything we know about a concept is part of its meaning, then also the fact that the boxer is similar to a creampuff is part of the meaning of the boxer. The question arises then: should not creampuff and boxer also be treated as contiguous? Barnden argues they should: Whenever a metaphorical link is used for accessing something in the target via something in the source, irrespective of the surface linguistic forms involved, we can claim the link is being used as a type of contiguity. (2010: 10)

One might argue that the link between glove and baseball player substantially differs from the one between creampuff and boxer. Still, why should we expect contiguity to be a homogeneous category and why should we expect the relationship between creampuff and boxer to be identical to the one between baseball player and glove to qualify as contiguous? Also, the relationship between creampuff and boxer does not seem much different from the relationship classified by Radden and Kövecses as metonymic (1999: 23) either as a. forma-­concepta which may “stand for” formb-­conceptb (as in: bus-“bus” which “stands for” bus driver-“bus driver”) or b. forma-­concepta which may “stand for” forma-­conceptb (as in: White House “place” which “stands for” White House “institution”).3 It may be argued that the creampuff example is similar in that there is also one form (creampuff) which may refer to a more central concepta (cream

3

Essentially the difference between the two relationships boils down to the fact that in (a) there is a name for conceptb (bus driver) whereas in (b), supposedly, there is not. One may argue, however, there is a name for conceptb in (b) such as administration or government. Conversely, one might claim that both in (a) and (b) there is a central concepta (place or bus) and a more peripheral conceptb (bus driver or institution), which are activated via the same form (bus or White House).

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cake) and a more peripheral conceptb (boxer). Consider Barnden’s observations (2010: 8–9).4 [A]ssuming that underlying [Example 136] there is some postulated similarity link between the boxer in question and a hypothetical creampuff (in the literal sense), we can use the link to achieve indirect reference to the boxer (target item) via direct reference to the creampuff (source item), just as we can use an alleged contiguity link in a metonymy to achieve indirect reference to a target item via a direct reference to a source item.

Riemer (2003) and later Barnden (2010) note, the contiguity-­similarity criterion may not be best suited to drawing a line between different forms of semantic extension. [T]his notion of contiguity is open-­ended […], and it will become obvious that this open-­endedness has serious consequences because it directly challenges the separability of metaphor and metonymy as different categories of semantic extension. (Riemer 2003: 384) [There is nothing] about metaphorical links that should prevent us from regarding them as a special case of contiguity links. (Barnden 2010: 9)

4.2 Metaphor, metonymy or synecdoche: An objective or subjective distinction? Another problem related to the distinction between a one- and two-­domain relationship, and between a taxonomical and partonomical relationship (which, as mentioned above, is the point of difference between metonymy and synecdoche) is that it may be made only from a subjective perspective. As Barcelona notes,

4

In his article (2010: 8), Barnden analyses a slightly different example of Gibbs’s: The creampuff didn’t even show up.

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[t]he cognitive domain is characterized […] as an “encyclopedic” domain (i.e. it includes all the entrenched knowledge that a speaker has about an area of experience). Thus, it will normally vary in breadth from speaker to speaker, and in many cases, it has no precise boundaries. (2003a: 8–9)

Panther and Thornburg suggest that we might be able to objectively decide what constitutes a single domain and, consequently, whether an expression is metaphoric (two domains) or metonymic (one domain) if we concentrated on one linguistic community and investigated, thoroughly enough, how its members conceptually structure their universe. The decision of what constitutes a single domain cannot be made a priori on logicosemantic grounds alone, but has to be based on empirical research on how speakers and, more generally speech communities conceptually structure their universe. (2007: 240)

For instance, if we study the Hausa society (a Sahelia people mainly located in the West African regions of northern Nigeria and southeastern Niger), we will learn that the dying scenario differs, in certain respects, from the one most Europeans are used to. In the Hausa society, a deceased person is normally laid in the grave on their right side, with the right hand under their head (covering their ear). This part of the dying scenario often metonymically “stands for” the scenario as a whole. Let us consider the following examples: (138) Ya danne kunne. He covered his ear (= he died) (Siemiątkowska 2006: 150). (139) Ya kwanta dama. He laid down on his right side (= he died) (Siemiątkowska 2006: 150).5 In other parts of the world, where the deceased are laid in graves (in coffins) on their backs, He covered his ear naturally could not metonymically refer to dying.

5

Siemiątkowska (2006: 150) classifies these examples as metaphors. The author believes, however, that the examples are metonymic rather than metaphoric.

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Substantial differences in domain composition may also occur within speech communities. In Vienna, for example, taking tram 71 is part of the dying scenario. Tram 71 goes to Zentralfriedhof (Vienna’s and Europe’s largest necropolis).6 Taking the 71 then, is sometimes used to metonymically refer to dying, for example, (140) Er hat den 71er genommen.7 He’s taken the 71 (= he’s died). Taking tram 71 is naturally part of the dying scenario only for the Viennese and the metonymy would not probably be understood outside Vienna. Panther and Thornburg are right that we may learn a lot from empirical research on how various speech communities and particular speakers of those communities conceptually structure their universe. However, even the most thorough empirical research will not let us objectively decide what constitutes a single domain and, consequently, whether an expression is metaphoric or metonymic. The problem is that the composition of conceptual domains usually, if not always, depends on the context. As Cienki argues, it is not necessarily clear how to demarcate what is or is not part of a given frame, ICM, or domain. Because they are cognitive constructs, their scope is going to be determined in any instance by contextual factors as well as the subjective nature of construal. (2007: 183, author’s emphasis)

For example, creampuff in: (141) The creampuff was knocked down in the boxing match (Gibbs 1999: 62), may be considered metaphoric (two conceptual domains). It may, however, when a different context is introduced, be equally well metonymic. For Gibbs, in the context he had in mind, creampuff is a non-­active piece of knowledge in the boxer domain matrix. Still, for a different 6 7

Source: . Source: .

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user, in a different context it might be an active piece of knowledge. That could be the case, for example, with a boxer eating a creampuff right before the fight, so that the audience could see it, or a boxer wearing a T-­shirt with a creampuff imprinted on it. One could also imagine a restaurant context where a waiter refers to his customer, who happens to be a boxer: (142) The creampuff is waiting for his check (= a customer who has ordered a cream-­puff ).8 Although it is impossible to delimit the domain matrix objectively, the domain principle does not have to be valueless, because domain matrices may be delimited from an individual’s subjective perspective and, consequently, a given expression may also be contextually or subjectively classified as metaphoric or metonymic. As Croft notes (2003: 173), such factors as contextual priming, “can convert ‘facilitation’ of activation of peripheral knowledge to actual activation of that knowledge in particular speech events where that particular knowledge is relevant.”9 Such a figurative ambiguity may also be seen in the oft-­quoted example by Goossens (1990: 164): (143) “Oh dear,” she giggled, “I’d quite forgotten.” Goossens notes that

8 9

This is a paraphrase of an oft-­quoted example of metonymy by Lakoff and Johnson (1980: 35). Lakoff and Johnson use ham sandwich instead of creampuff in their example (The ham sandwich is waiting for his check). Activation and facilitation used by Croft are a reference to Langacker who notes that The entity designated by a symbolic unit can […] be thought of as a point of access to a network. The semantic value of a symbolic unit is given by the open-­ended set of relations […] in which this access node participates. Each of these relations is a cognitive routine, and because they share at least one component the activation of one routine facilitates (but does not always necessitate) the activation of another. (1987: 163)

136 Chapter 4 [o]ne interpretation is that she said this while giggling: in that case there is a synecdochic relationship; we express part for the whole, we have pure metonymy. (2003: 356)10

Under such an interpretation, giggle should be taken to mean “to utter with a giggle” since giggling, in certain circumstances, may be an element of the saying something scenario (which includes opening one’s mouth, uttering words, hesitating, giggling, etc.) and may refer to the whole scenario (it is metonymic). Another way to interpret she giggled is that she said this as if giggling. That would be, as Goossens suggests, a crossing of domain boundaries and a metaphor.11,12 Riemer (2003: 386–387) comes to similar conclusions and gives the following example of the use of the verb kick: (144) They had a disagreement and the landlady kicked him out of the house. Riemer notes, that the expression may have both metaphoric and metonymic qualities. In this sentence kick out means something like “force to leave, expel.” Should this extension be considered as a metonymy or a metaphor? As a matter of fact, what happened […] was that the woman made the man leave the house. This was probably achieved by a variety of means (shouting, verbal threats, putting the man’s belongings on the street, etc.) which may or may not have involved actual kicking. […] In achieving this, the expression has clear metaphorical qualities: the situation is conceived of

10 11 12

Goossens’s understanding of synecdoche differs from the one proposed in this book (see Section 2.2). As Goossens notes, since the metaphorical reading of giggle is a non-­conventionalized one, some speakers might have problems interpreting it that way (2003: 356 f.). The main reason why Goossens used the example was not to show that it may have two possible readings, but that in the metaphorical interpretation, “the conceptual link with the metonymic reading is still present” (2003: 356), or, in other words, that metaphor and metonymy may operate together. We denote a kind of speech that shares the light-­heartedness or the silliness, and perhaps some physical features with giggling properly speaking: this is what I would like to call metaphor from metonymy.

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as similar to a real act of kicking in respect of both its result (the fact that the man ended up outside), and the relationship of control between the landlady and the man. But kick out is just as clearly metonymically related to the meaning “make leave,” since kicking could well figure as one aspect of an attempt to expel someone from a house. […] This metonymic connection exists even where the context is completely non-­physical […].

We encounter a similar problem with synecdoche (understood as a category relation). It is also difficult to objectively decide whether two entities belong to the same category. First, most categories have fuzzy boundaries. Second, categories are complex structures, in which the number of members is often open-­ended. Finally, just like domain matrices, categories are culture and context dependent. As Barsalou notes (1985), depending on the context, we may put into one category seemingly unrelated entities; we create not only common taxonomic categories (such as “animals” or “furniture”) or formal categories (such as “even numbers”), but also goal-­ derived categories (such as “things to eat on a diet”) or ad hoc categories (such as “ways to avoid being killed by the Mafia”). According to Lakoff (1987: 46), categories are often “made up on the fly for some immediate purpose,” for example, “things to take from one’s home during a fire” or “what to get for a birthday present.” Thus, the decision whether two entities are part of the same category can only be taken subjectively. As Taylor argues, similarity, like beauty, lies in the eye of the beholder. Once we invoke similarity as a basis for categorization, we inevitably bring language users, with their beliefs, interests, and past experience, into the picture. Things are similar to the extent that a human being, in some context and for some purpose, chooses to regard them as similar. (1995: 60)

Consequently, the classification of a particular expression as synecdochic (just like the classification of a particular expression as metonymic or metaphoric) has to be subjective and determined by contextual factors. For example, Nerlich and Clarke (2001b: 77) propose that: (145) Give us our daily bread (= food),

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is an example of synecdoche (the species to genus transfer (C-relation)). However, it seems that it could also be considered metonymic (E-­relation). Bread is obviously an element of the category food, but it is also part of a meal such as breakfast (for a very simplified food category see Figure 37 and for a very simplified meal domain see Figure 38).

Figure 37. The food category

Figure 38. The meal domain (e.g. (English) breakfast)

Finally, in the New Testament, for example, bread is sometimes used as a metaphor with reference to the Body of Christ.13 13

In the Lord’s Prayer (in: Give us this day our daily bread), however, bread is much more likely to be metonymic rather than metaphoric. It refers to our life’s necessities (metonymy) than to The Body of Christ (metaphor).

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Also Seto notes that, the term professor, for example, may be, depending on the point of view or context, classified as either synecdoche or metonymy (Figure 39). To use Seto’s words: [a] particular professor has a double function: one as a part (member) of the linguistic department, the other as an element of the category “professor.” Therefore, the organization-­member relation is a whole-­part relation, hence an E-­relation, but the class-­element (or the class-­subclass) relation is […] a C-­relation. (1999: 101–102)

linguistic department professor lecturer assistant university teacher Figure 39. Organization and class (Seto 1999: 102)

Similarly, bottle shop, which is a popular Australian name for what is elsewhere known as an off-licence or liquor store is an example of both metonymy and synecdoche. What the shop sells is not just any bottles, but those containing alcoholic beverages (generic for specific synecdoche) and what is really important for the customers is not the bottles themselves but their content (container for content metonymy). Different interpretations seem also possible in the case of visual metaphors or metonymies. For example, as Messaris (1997: xix) notes, it is “common practice for cigarette manufacturers to advertise their products by juxtaposing them with vigorous outdoor activity.” The manufacturer of Marlboro cigarettes is in this respect quite typical, that is, in the Marlboro

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advertisement poster (Figure 40), the brand name and two packets of Marlboro cigarettes are juxtaposed with a cowboy riding a horse across the prairie at sunset.14

Figure 40. Marlboro cigarettes juxtaposed with a cowboy (metonymically evoking freedom)

It could be argued that in the advertisement, the cowboy metonymically refers to unrestricted freedom. By juxtaposing the cigarettes with the “unbridled cowboy” the advertiser probably aims at incorporating Marlboro cigarettes into the freedom frame, or creating an impression that there is a causal relation between smoking Marlboro cigarettes and freedom (cause for effect – if you smoke you feel free). As Kwiatkowska notes, “in real 14

Source: .

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life, if two things appear together, there is a high probability of their being connected by a causal relation” (2007: 302). Interestingly, a metaphorical interpretation of the advertisement is also possible. It may be claimed that the message the poster is supposed to convey (Figure 41) is that smoking Marlboro cigarettes is like riding a horse across the prairie (one feels as free as an unbridled cowboy). This part is perhaps best summarized by the following quotations from Nerlich (2010) and Barnden (2010). In metaphor it is important that we see something as something else, in metonymy it is important that we see a contiguity between domains. (Nerlich 2010: 305, author’s emphasis) Metaphoricity and metonymicity are, arguably, language-­user-­relative in a deep way. They are affected by such things as the particular lexicon, encyclopaedic knowledge, and interconceptual relationships held by a particular language user (whether utterer or understander). Thus, in principle, an expression should not be said to be metaphorical or metonymic in any absolute sense, but only for a particular user. (Barnden 2010: 4, author’s emphasis)

4.3 Metaphor, metonymy, and synecdoche operating together Another obstacle to classifying a given linguistic expression as metaphoric, metonymic or synecdochic stems from the fact that the phenomena often operate together. The phenomenon of metaphor-­metonymy interaction has been discussed in the literature. Goossens (1990) and later Ruiz de Mendoza and Pérez-­Hernández (2003), for instance, distinguish a few interaction patterns between metaphor and metonymy. Goossens writes about metaphor from metonymy, metonymy within metaphor, and metaphor within metonymy.15 Ruiz de Mendoza and Pérez-­Hernández, on the other hand, argue that 15

Goossens (1990: 171) claims there is another interaction type: demetonymization inside a metaphor (as in the expression to pay lip service meaning “to support in words

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the three interaction patterns proposed by Goossens in fact exploit the same kind of conceptual operation. All of them, “involve a metonymic development of the underspecified source domain of a metaphor” (2003: 41). Apart from the interaction pattern or patterns distinguished by Goossens, Ruiz de Mendoza and Pérez-­Hernández give two other: metonymic development of a metaphoric target and metonymic highlighting of a metaphoric target. Let us consider an example by Ruiz de Mendoza and Pérez-­Hernández (2003:42–43). In metonymy within metaphor or, as Ruiz de Mendoza and Pérez-­Hernández call it, metonymic development of the metaphoric source: get up on one’s hind legs metonymy is processed first in the metaphoric source, which then is mapped onto the metaphoric target (Figure 41). Getting up on one’s hind legs (the way some animals do) first metonymically refers to attacking. Then, the metonymic target (and metaphoric source – animal attack) is mapped onto the metaphoric target (human attack/argument).

Figure 41. Metonymic development of the metaphoric source (Ruiz de Mendoza and Pérez-­Hernández 2003: 43). Reproduced with permission from the author but not in fact”). However, as Ruiz de Mendoza and Pérez-­Hernández (2003: 47) convincingly argue, the status of the process of demtonymization is questionable.

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Analysing the examples provided by Goossens (1990) and Ruiz de Mendoza and Pérez-­Hernández (2003), one may get the impression that the instances of interaction between metaphor and metonymy are not particularly common and that there is still a large number of pure metaphors and metonymies. Goossens, for example, in his analysis of 109 items related to body parts, claims that there are forty-­two pure metaphors and eight pure metonyms among them. However, on closer inspection, it may turn out that there is no such thing as pure metaphor or metonymy and the interaction of metaphor, metonymy, and synecdoche is a norm rather than an exception. Let us now see why this may be so. Seto (1999: 115) notes that “any word can be used in a more specific sense than it normally means.” [P]ractically all words (perhaps with a few exceptions) are capable of changing their own categorical range (within limits).

One could probably add that also virtually any word can be used in a more general sense than it normally means. Synecdoche then, or, at least the generic to specific and specific to generic transfer, is probably the most common figure of speech.16 The phenomenon is not limited to nouns and can also be seen in verbs or adjectives, for example, (146) She can’t walk (= she can’t walk professionally, on the stage) (Seto 1999: 115). (147) I can’t sleep (= I can’t sleep well) (Seto 1999: 115). (148) It is an excellent and highly readable account of the army today (= it is easy or enjoyable to read) (Cambridge International Dictionary of English).

16

Along the same lines Le Guern and Klinkenberg note that many examples of synecdoche “seem to belong to the normal functioning of ordinary language” (Klinkenberg 1983: 291).

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It follows then, that every common noun (and probably also a verb or adjective) is automatically synecdochic when it is used to denote only one entity or a limited number of entities of the class it may normally denote. Consider the following quote from Seto (see also Figure 42): Suppose a mother asks her son to go and buy a dozen eggs, she would expect him to come back with a dozen chicken eggs, not a dozen of reptile eggs. (1999: 115, author’s emphasis)

fish egg chicken egg

EGG

ostrich egg

reptile egg amphibian egg

Figure 42. The genus to species transfer (egg = chicken egg)

The target would obviously be different in: (149) A hatchery is a place where large numbers of eggs are hatched and the young are taken care of (= probably fish eggs) (Cambridge International Dictionary of English). Under such an interpretation most examples of metonymy discussed in the literature are actually also examples of synecdoche. Let us consider the following:

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(150) Can you break an egg with one hand? The egg probably refers here to chicken egg. It is then the generic to specific transfer – a synecdoche. Still, since the yolk or white are not the ones to be broken, the egg should probably be understood as eggshell. Thus, it is also the metonymic totum pro parte relationship where the egg refers to eggshell (Figure 43).

chicken egg yolk

fish egg

shell white

EGG

ostrich egg

reptile egg amphibian egg

Figure 43. The synecdochic genus to species relation (egg = chicken egg) and the metonymic totum pro parte relation (egg = shell)

There are also numerous examples where synecdoche operates together with both metonymy and metaphor. Consider the following: (151) In the greenhouse, in heated beds, sow eggplant, peppers and tomatoes.17,18

17 18

Source: . In the original example aubergine instead of eggplant is used.

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Eggplant itself is (or, at least, used to be) metaphoric.19 Apparently, the name originally applied only to the variety that produced white fruit, whose shape and size resembled goose eggs. Apart from being metaphoric, eggplant used in the example is also metonymic, since it refers to eggplant seeds (totum pro parte). Finally, it is also synecdochic (generic for specific) since it refers to only one variety of the plant (possibly more but certainly not all) (see Figure 44).

Thai Green fruit flesh

COLOUR

EGG

Little Fingers

seeds skin

SHAPE

EGG SIZE

Ichiban

Dourga Rosa Bianca

Figure 44. The metaphoric relation (egg > eggplant), the synecdochic relation (genus to species) and the metonymic relation (totum pro parte)

Let us now consider an example from Polish. Because of metonymic shrinking the term wieśniak (the Polish word for “peasant” or “country dweller”), as well as the adjective derived from it: wiejski or worse wieśniacki, started to be used with reference to the negative qualities attributed by some people to country dwellers (e.g. lack of refinement, bad taste, etc.). Thus, wieśniak is nowadays mainly or solely used in Polish in a pejorative sense to mean 19

It may be reasonably argued that eggplant has now lost the “status” of metaphor and can normally be understood without knowing its earlier connotation (with an egg). In fact, the only variety of eggplant many Europeans know is purple and its shape does not resemble an egg. Still, there can be little doubt that eggplant came into existence as a metaphorical extension and the metaphorical link must have been present at some point. The author does not attempt to argue that the metaphorical link between egg and eggplant is still present but only to show the “coexistence” of metaphor, metonymy, and synecdoche is (or in the case of eggplant used to be) at all possible.

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a primitive, uneducated person (a boor or a simpleton).20 Burak (“beet”), being one of the most popular vegetables in Poland (Poland is in the world’s top ten beet producers ()), started to be used for people who grow it – for farmers or country dwellers in general. Because, as mentioned above, the Polish word for a country dweller is chiefly used in a pejorative sense, the pejorative sense has also been taken over by the term burak (“beet”), which is now used to mean a boor or a simpleton (usually of rural background). Consider, for instance, a poster by The Students’ Parliament of the Republic of Poland (Polish: Parlament Studentów Rzeczypospolitej Polskiej) urging people to take part in the ballot, which reads: Have your say (= Polish: “cast a vote”) before beetroots (= boors/simpletons) take it away from you (Figure 45).21

Figure 45. A poster saying: Have your say (= Polish: “cast a vote”) before beetroots take it (the right to have your say/cast a vote) away from you (by Parlament Studentów Rzeczypospolitej Polskiej). Reproduced with permission from the author 20 In English peasant can also be used in a pejorative sense. In Polish, however, the word seems to have completely lost its unmarked or neutral meaning. 21 Source: .

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Burak, however, does not seem to be purely metonymic. Burak used for an unsophisticated, unpolished person usually of rural background, seems to have also metaphorical traits. Beetroots, when they are sold, are usually dirty with sand, which needs to be rinsed off them before they can be used. Similarly, people called beetroots may seem unpolished and unrefined and may seem to need schooling on how to behave in social situations. Moreover, beetroots are red and, as mentioned above, usually dirty when they are sold. Similarly, some farmers may appear red in the face (because they usually work outside, some tend to get sunburned in the summer and frostbitten in the winter). Also when tilling the soil, farmers often get dirty. Thus, in the example above, there may be the following processes involved: a. double metonymy: vegetable for person who grows it: burak [beetroot] = wieśniak [farmer/country dweller] and person for negative quality: wieśniak [farmer/country dweller] = boor/simpleton, b. metaphor: looks like/has the qualities of a beetroot: • unrefined (may need to learn how to behave in social situations) – like beetroots which need rinsing before being processed, • unsophisticated – like a beetroot which some may consider an unsophisticated, “working-­class” vegetable, • red in the face/red complexion – like the colour of a beetroot.

4.4 Final remarks Drawing a clear line between metaphor, metonymy, and synecdoche may be difficult. First, it is not clear how broadly we should understand the concept of contiguity. Second, the distinction between a one- and two-­ domain relationship, and between a taxonomical and partonomical relationship may only be made from a subjective perspective. Third, metaphor, metonymy, and synecdoche frequently interact with each other. Thus, as Barnden suggests, rather than try to establish whether a given expression is

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metaphoric, metonymic, or synecdochic, it might be better to investigate other issues instead.22 [I]nstead of worrying about whether some utterance is metaphorical or metonymic, or even about how far the utterance is along a literal/metonymic/metaphorical continuum, we should often be asking instead: What degree and type of similarity does it involve, if any? What sort of contiguity does it involve, if any? Does it involve link survival? Is the source item hypothetical, and in what way? Is there any imaginary identification? And so forth. Considering the dimensions in themselves helps to free us from a mindset that seeks clear-­cut differences between metaphor and metonymy when these may not exist. (2010: 31)

22 Somewhat along the same lines Nunberg (2004: 344) proposes the concept of deferred interpretation (or “deference”), which he defines as “the phenomenon whereby expressions can be used to refer to something that isn’t explicitly included in the conventional denotation of that expression.” Nunberg notes that “from a linguistic point of view, there’s no reason to distinguish between the mechanisms that operate within the lexicon to produce meaning extensions and those that operate in a purely pragmatic way” (2004: 345). Also Sullivan and Sweetser (2009), who in their paper analyse the supposedly metaphoric nature of the generic-­specific relation, come to similar conclusions. In answer to the question, “Is ‘Generic is Specific’ a metaphor?” then, the best response might be “Does it matter?” Human beings use many types of conceptual structures in reasoning and in language. We cannot expect that these structures will belong to hard-­and-­fast categories, any more than we can expect to find hard-­and-­fast categories in most other areas of human cognition. Identifying, modeling and understanding the structures that occur, then, may be more productive than assigning labels and trying to confine these conceptual structures to artificially invented categories. (2009: 327)

Conclusion

The general aim of this book is to contribute to a better understanding of metonymy – a phenomenon which still, despite the current upsurge in scholarly attention, may be difficult to define. Naturally the list of problems addressed in the is book is hardly exhaustive. Also the analysis of some of the problems may seem superficial. It should be noted, however, that the aim of this book was not to provide an exhaustive analysis of all issues related to metonymy. At times, it was only to highlight problems that exist and may have to be more thoroughly researched in the future. The present study presents, critically analyses, and develops various theories and hypotheses concerning the nature of metonymy advanced in the literature to date. First, it presents numerous arguments in favour of the conceptual rather than purely linguistic basis of metonymy. It also demonstrates the pervasiveness of metonymy not only in the lexicon but also in grammar and above all in conceptual structure. Second, it critically analyses the theories concerning the nature of the metonymic shift. It demonstrates that neither the for nor the and notation is accurate. The for notation and the substitution view it implies could only be used in cases of historical semantic change.1 Moreover, even in such cases, owing to the conceptual character of metonymy, the relationship between the source and the target should be represented by the y for x rather than the x for y notation, since it is concepty that replaces conceptx not the other way round. The and notation, on the other hand, does not seem to account for all metonymies, and misleadingly implies equal prominence of the source and the target. The author argues that the notation that captures the nature of the metonymic shift best is not x for y or x plus y but y through x. Third, the present study shows the extreme complexity of

1

Nevertheless, it may be argued that in such cases there is no metonymic relation any longer (cf. Riemer 2003).

152 Conclusion

conceptual structures metonymy operates within. This in turn, points to the infeasibility of establishing a clear-­cut, objective distinction between metonymy and metaphor. Moreover, this book presents a thorough analysis of constraints to the scope of metonymy. First, it follows the arguments of Seto (1995, 1999), Burkhardt (1996), and Nerlich and Clarke (1999, 2001) that synecdoche should not be treated as a mere subtype of metonymy, as is often the case (cf. Lakoff and Johnson 1980). It demonstrates that although metonymy and synecdoche are similar, in that they are both based on some kind of contiguity, they differ in terms of the type of contiguity they are related by. Although the view of synecdoche presented in this book has been greatly influenced by Seto’s (1995, 1999) and Nerlich and Clarke’s (1999, 2001) findings, it differs from them in terms of the approach to the idea of the “cognitive triangle.” The author of the present study argues that the name “triangle” might be misleading since it implies more or less equal differences between its three elements, which does not seem to be the case. Thus, the author advocates Jakobson’s (1956) traditional division into two basic modes of thought, with the proviso that the mode of thought which is based on contiguity occurs in two different variants (partonomic (metonymy) and taxonomic (synecdoche)).2 Second, this book offers a critique of the theory put forward by Panther and Thornburg (2004, 2007) concerning the need to constrain the scope of metonymy based on the contingency criterion. It also presents a critical analysis of the theories developed by Paradis (2003, 2005a, 2005b) and Kosecki (2006), according to which, facetization and zone activation should be excluded from the scope of metonymy. The analysis concludes that rather than try to constrain its scope, metonymy should be treated as heterogeneous category with more and less prototypical members (with the proviso that one “proper” way in which the aforementioned prototypicality should be understood does not exist). Third, this book questions the traditional understanding of part-­ whole relations. It demonstrates that the whole should not be understood as the whole ICM as such, but merely as some more inclusive part 2

Nerlich (personal communication (May 2010)) agrees with the author’s view on the matter.

Conclusion

153

of the ICM.3 Thus, it suggests that the infelicitous name the part for the whole be changed to metonymic expansion. Alternatively, it argues that the part for the whole relation should be treated as an element of a double metonymic relation (a source-­in-­target metonymy which is by necessity followed by a target-­in-­source metonymy). Fourth, the present study addresses the issue of the traditional figurative-­literal distinction. It shows that since, as Langacker (1990) or Barcelona (2003a) observe, most, if not all, linguistic expressions are by nature metonymic, it would probably be more accurate to classify them according to the degree of salience or centrality of the target rather than figurativeness and literalness. Furthermore, the present research sheds light on metonymic backgrounding, which unlike the notion of highlighting (e.g. Croft 2003), has so far received little scholarly attention. First, it demonstrates how the otherwise backgrounded source meaning may be highlighted (may become the figure) to divert the focus of attention from the target meaning. This form of metonymic backgrounding may take an “upward” or a “downward” orientation. In the “upward” oriented relation, in order to hinder access to the target, a peripheral element of the frame is normally selected as the source. In the “downward” oriented relation, on the other hand, a more inclusive (opaque) domain is selected for the source in order to obscure the target. Second, the present study shows how the “real” target may be obscured by highlighting the “dummy” target. Third, it demonstrates how metonymic thinking may be used to manipulate the semantic content that is, how the target may be activated by the “dummy” source (by a “foreign” element which has been incorporated into a conceptual structure). This book also presents some problematic issues concerning the distinction between metaphor, metonymy, and synecdoche. It shows that under a very broad understanding of contiguity presented for example by Barnden (2010), the difference between similarity and contiguity and consequently between metaphor and metonymy may become blurred. Second, the study demonstrates that the classification of a given

3

The observation also holds for (most) synecdochic specific to generic relations.

154 Conclusion

expression as metaphoric, metonymic, and synecdochic may only be possible from an individual’s subjective perspective. Finally, it argues that even a subjectively based classification may be difficult due to the fact that metonymy, metaphor, and synecdoche may and, more often than not, do operate together.

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169

Index

abstract domain 45, 46, 47, 48, 51 abstract entity 61 active zone metonymy 77–90, 101–105 additive view (of metonymy) 34–37 advertising 16, 126, 127, 128, 139, 140, 141 ambiguity 5, 84, 135 amodal perception 11, 13, 17, 25 anaphor/anaphoric reference 24, 94, 97, 107 animal, animal communication 9, 17–19, 28, 66, 67, 123, 126, 137, 142 antimetabole 53 Aristotle 53, 59

contingency/contingent 4, 74–77, 87, 152 cubism 16

base 44, 45, 46, 48, 76 behavioural research 124, 126

effect for cause 15–17, 57, 77 emergence 12, 27 euphemism treadmill 110, 114 euphemism/euphemistic expression 40, 99, 107, 110–116, 119

caricature 10 categorization 14, 52, 62, 137 category 3, 4, 28, 41, 50, 61–66, 70–73, 77, 81, 89, 90, 100, 101, 126,131, 137–139, 152 category membership 62–64, 89, 100, 126 causal reasoning/causal relation 15, 140, 141 cause for effect 57, 77, 140 classical conditioning 125, 126 cognitive grammar 1, 44, 46, 52 cognitive reference point 65, 73 cognitive triangle 55, 68, 152 container for content 16, 139 context 11, 20, 21, 43, 51, 52, 64, 70, 73, 75, 78, 80–82, 84, 86, 103, 110, 134, 135, 137, 139 contiguity 3, 5, 8, 38–52, 55, 58, 60, 63, 67, 68, 69, 73, 81, 129–132, 141, 148, 149

death 40, 112, 123 default metonymy 97, 98 defeasibility 74, 75 defecation/urination 110, 111 Domain Availability Principle 97 domain matrix 42, 45–48, 52, 58, 76, 108, 130, 134, 135 double metonymy 4, 103, 105, 148, 153 dysphemism 115, 116

face for the person 10, 21, 22, 76 facetization 3, 4, 15, 77–90, 91, 152 family resemblance 63, 89, 90 figurativeness and literalness 4, 24, 35, 36, 85, 92, 105–106, 108, 116, 132, 149, 153 figure-ground 84–85, 109–110 frame 1, 11, 25, 27, 32, 35, 36, 38–52, 60, 85, 102, 109, 110, 112, 116, 119, 124, 126, 134, 140, 153 genus to species transfer 65, 72, 73, 144–146 Gestalt 11–12, 14, 27, 43, 70, 83, 98

172 Index humour 107, 119–123 hyperonym 71 hyponym 15, 69, 71

referential metonymy 20, 23, 30–32, 55, 63, 91, 92, 95, 107 reversibility 57, 58, 77, 80

idealized cognitive model (ICM) 4, 8, 25–27, 29, 31, 32, 38–52, 56, 74, 102, 105, 134, 152 implicature 25, 34, 106

salience/salient 4, 11, 20, 28, 36, 41, 58, 70, 78, 80, 81, 93, 97, 102, 106, 119, 153 scene 27, 32, 42, 43, 51, 52 schematic metonymy 91 Semantic Script Theory of Humor (SSTH) 119 semiotics 15, 19, 49, 50, 61 sex 99, 111, 112, 117, 118, 126–128, similarity 5, 43, 55, 58, 63, 67, 129–132, 137, 149, 153 source selection 97, 98 source-in-target metonymy 4, 104, 105, 110, 111, 114, 153 spatial entity 60 species to genus 65, 73, 138 species to species 65, 73 substitution view (of metonymy) 16, 30–34, 37, 151 synecdoche 3–5, 9, 29, 41, 50, 53–56, 59–73, 77, 81, 89, 98, 99, 102, 105, 118, 124, 126, 129–149, 152–154

Kanizsa Triangle 12, 13 meronymy 15 metaphor 1–3, 5, 9, 19, 22, 39, 44, 52–58, 59, 61, 63, 66–69, 71, 77, 89, 108, 113, 116, 118, 124, 129–149, 152–154 metonymic models of categories 68 metonymic models of individuals 68 metonymic processing of language 20, 25–28 modal completion 13 motivation 22, 41, 97–99, 111 non-linguistic metonymy 9–19, 25 objectification 39, 60 part for whole (pars pro toto) 11, 21, 26, 27, 34, 44, 57, 60, 80, 81, 101–105, 124, 125 partial sanctioning 14 partonomy/partonomical 15, 45, 55, 60, 61, 132, 148, 152 post-metonymy 34, 41, 110 prägnanz 14 processing metonymic language 20–25 profile 44, 45, 48, 76, 85, 91 prominence/prominent concept 19, 33, 35, 37, 52, 87, 88, 93–97, 106 propositional metonymy 20 prototypicality of metonymy 3, 4, 35, 36, 87–101, 108

taboo 110, 111, 117, target-in-source metonymy 4, 104, 105, 116, 117, 121, 153 taxonomy 45, 55, 61, 62, 69–71, 128, 132, 137, 148, 152 temporal frame/temporal entity 39, 60, thanatosis 123 trope 2, 38, 53–56, 59, 89 truth conditions 20 typical metonymy 88, 91 whole for part (totum pro parte) 27, 28, 34, 44, 57, 60, 80, 81, 124, 125, 145, 146

CONTEMPORARY STUDIES IN DESCRIPTIVE LINGUISTICS Edited by PROFESSOR GRAEME DAVIS, School of Humanities, University of Buckingham. KARL A. BERNHARDT, Research Fellow in the Department of English, University of Buckingham, UK, and English Language Consultant with Trinity College, London. This series provides an outlet for academic monographs which offer a recent and original contribution to linguistics and which are within the descriptive tradition. While the monographs demonstrate their debt to contemporary linguistic thought, the series does not impose limitations in terms of methodology or genre, and does not support a particular linguistic school. Rather the series welcomes new and innovative research that contributes to ­furthering the understanding of the description of language. The topics of the monographs are scholarly and represent the cutting edge for their particular fields, but are also accessible to researchers outside the specific disciplines. Contemporary Studies in Descriptive Linguistics is based at the D ­ epartment of English, University of Buckingham. The Literary and Cultural Stylistics subseries aims to explore the intersection of descriptive linguistics with the disciplines of literature and culture. The techniques of stylistic analysis offer a way of approaching texts both literary and non-literary as well as all forms of cultural communication. The subseries offers a home for this research, where literary criticism meets linguistics and where cultural studies meets communication. It welcomes a wide range of data sets and methodologies, with the intention that every book in the subseries makes a new contribution to the disciplines that support them.

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Sebastian M. Rasinger: Bengali-English in East London. A Study in Urban Multilingualism. 270 pages, 2007. ISBN 978-3-03911-036-0

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Paolo Coluzzi: Minority Language Planning and Micronationalism in Italy. 348 pages, 2007. ISBN 978-3-03911-041-4

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Iwan Wmffre: Breton Orthographies and Dialects: The Twentieth-Century Orthography War in Brittany. Vol 1. 499 pages, 2007. ISBN 978-3-03911-364-4

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Iwan Wmffre: Breton Orthographies and Dialects: The Twentieth-Century Orthography War in Brittany. Vol 2. 281 pages, 2007. ISBN 978-3-03911-365-1

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Kathy Pitt: Sourcing the Self: Debating the Relations between Language and Consciousness. 220 pages, 2008. ISBN 978-3-03911-398-9

Vol. 22 Peiling Xing: Chinese Learners and the Lexis Learning Rainbow. 273 pages, 2009. ISBN 978-3-03911-407-8 Vol. 23 Yufang Qian: Discursive Constructions around Terrorism in the People’s Daily (China) and The Sun (UK) Before and After 9.11: A Corpus-based Contrastive Critical Discourse Analysis. 284 pages, 2010. ISBN 978-3-0343-0186-2 Vol. 24

Ian Walkinshaw: Learning Politeness: Disagreement in a Second Language. 297 pages, 2009. ISBN 978-3-03911-527-3

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Shahela Hamid: Language Use and Identity: The Sylheti Bangladeshis in Leeds. 225 pages, 2011. ISBN 978-3-03911-559-4

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Magdalena Karolak: The Past Tense in Polish and French: A Semantic Approach to Translation. 217 pages, 2013. ISBN 978-3-0343-0968-4

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Iwan Wmffre: Dynamic Linguistics: Labov, Martinet, Jakobson and Other Precursors of the Dynamic Approach to Language Description. 615 pages, 2013. ISBN 978-3-0343-1705-4

Vol. 29 Razaul Karim Faquire: Modality and Its Learner Variety in Japanese. 237 pages, 2012. ISBN 978-3-0343-0103-9 Vol. 30 Francisca Suau-Jiménez and Barry Pennock-Speck (eds): Interdisciplinarity and Languages: Current Issues in Research, Teaching, Professional Applications and ICT. 234 pages, 2011. ISBN 978-3-0343-0283-8 Vol. 31

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Vol. 32 Xosé Rosales Sequeiros: Linguistic Meaning and Non-Truth-Conditionality. 266 pages, 2012. ISBN 978-3-0343-0705-5 Vol. 33 Yu Hou: A Corpus-Based Study of Nominalization in Translations of Chinese Literary Prose: Three Versions of Dream of the Red Chamber. 230 pages. 2014. ISBN 978-3-0343-1815-0 Vol. 34 Christopher Beedham, Warwick Danks and Ether Soselia (eds): Rules and Exceptions: Using Exceptions for Empirical Research in Theoretical Linguistics. 289 pages, 2014. ISBN 978-3-0343-0782-6 Vol. 35

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Vol. 37 Stephen Pax Leonard: Some Ethnolinguistic Notes on Polar Eskimo. 292 pages, 2015. ISBN 978-3-0343-1947-8 Vol. 38

Chiara Semplicini: One Word, Two Genders: Categorization and Agreement in Dutch Double Gender Nouns. 409 pages, 2016. ISBN 978-3-0343-0927-1

Vol. 39 Raffaella Antinucci and Maria Giovanna Petrillo (eds): Navigating Maritime Languages and Narratives: New Perspectives in English and French. 320 pages, 2017. ISBN 978-1-78707-387-6 Vol. 40 Ali Almanna: Semantics for Translation Students: Arabic–English–Arabic. 226 pages, 2016. ISBN 978-1-906165-58-1 Vol. 41 Pablo Kirtchuk: A Unified and Integrative Theory of Language. 262 pages, 2016. ISBN 978-3-0343-2250-8 Vol. 42 Prafulla Basumatary: Verbal Semantics in a Tibeto-Burman Language: The Bodo Verb. 290 pages, 2017. ISBN 978-1-78707-339-5 Vol. 43 Claudio Grimaldi: Discours et terminologie dans la presse scientifique française (1699–1740). 234 pages, 2017. ISBN 978-1-78707-925-0 Vol. 44 Wojciech Wachowski: Towards a Better Understanding of Metonymy. 196 pages, 2019. ISBN 978-1-78874-345-7

The general aim of this book is to contribute to a better understanding of metonymy, a phenomenon which still, despite the current upsurge in scholarly attention, remains puzzling in some respects. The theoretical framework of this book is provided by the school of thought commonly known as Cognitive Linguistics. The first part of the book analyses and develops various hypotheses concerning the nature of metonymy advanced in the literature to date. It presents numerous arguments in favour of the conceptual rather than purely linguistic basis of metonymy and shows that metonymy is a ubiquitous phenomenon not only in language but above all in thought. The second part contains a thorough analysis of the constraints on the scope of metonymy and discusses the differences between metonymy and other forms of so-called figurative language. The third part is devoted to the role and importance of metonymy in communication and focuses on the creative functions of metonymy, which have received surprisingly little scholarly attention to date, such as euphemism, vague language, and humour. The fourth part of this book is centred on some problematic issues concerning the distinction between metonymy, metaphor, and synecdoche.

WOJCIECH WACHOWSKI is Assistant Professor in the Institute of Modern Languages and Applied Linguistics at Kazimierz Wielki University in Bydgoszcz, Poland. He is also an Endeavour Research Fellow at the University of Queensland, Australia, and has lectured as a visiting professor at several European universities. He has published on various topics in linguistics, especially cognitive linguistics and sociolinguistics. His main research interests include metonymy and metaphor, and teacher and translator training.

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