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i. Autobiography
In general, Formalist and Structuralistcriticismtends to stabilize the
relationshipbetween authorand narrator:the authoris presumedto keep
his narratorat an ironic arm'slength. In Onegin, however, Pushkinkeeps
this distance in constant flux, now approaching,now receding from his
narrativepersona. By packing his text with autobiographicalreferences,
Pushkinenvelops his novel in the largerextra-textual,real world of author
and reader,so that the worldsof fiction and realityare forced to intersect.
Alreadyin the second stanza, Oneginis introducedas the hero of the novel
and simultaneouslyas the friend of the author-narratorwho teases the
readerwith the possibilityhe is Pushkinhimself (or a simulacrumthereof)
at the end of the stanza by commentingon his own real-life exile to the
Crimea:"No vredensever dlia menia [But the north is harmfulfor me]."
Laterin the chapter,the narratorhimself appearsas a characterin a remi-
niscentialsection of the text as the friend of Onegin. He in fact becomes a
fictionalcharacter.The reader, too, is mapped onto the fictionalplane of
the novel throughthe author-narrator's constantapostrophizing.For exam-
ple, the author-narrator suggests in the second stanza that the reader and
the novel's hero may have been born in the same place, "Gdemozhet byt'
rodilis' vy [Where perhaps you were born]." More subtly in the same
stanza,he rhymesmoi priiatel'[myfriend],meaningof courseOnegin, with
chitatel'[the reader], and thereby introduces a covert semantic consan-
guinitybetween protagonistand reader.Thereby,three differentworlds-
the worlds of the character,author, and reader-come to exist intermit-
tently on the same plane; at the same time, however, they exist separately
in their own spheres. The "I" of the novel as a friend of Onegin (and
perhapsacquaintanceof the readeras well) is not identicalto the biographi-
cal author.However, he is presentedas such, and thereinlies the contradic-
tion. Dynamicallyand irregularlythe author-narratormixes the worlds of
reader, author, and character.Fixed borders collapse, and life overflows
into and animatesart and vice versa.
This almost mechanical mixing and intersecting of levels is one way
Pushkinbringshis world to life. It is not, however,unique to Pushkin.As
is often remarked,the principleof authorialinterferencewas quite com-
mon in the tradition of EnlightenmentRealism (El'sberg 257). We may
also look to European Sentimental and Romantic literature for closer
sourcesof influence. Constant,Richardson,and especiallyByron likewise
createdcharactersby projectingtheir own personalitiesonto the page. For
these authors, the dominant mode of literary creation was not mimetic
narrationwhereby an authorcreates a world similarto, yet distinct from,
the real one. Nor did they create third-person,seemingly autonomous
beings distinct from themselves. Rather, authors produced stylized self-
portraits.Authorialsubjectivityprojectedonto third-personnarration,the
emotional engagementof the narratingvoice, and the ambiguousbound-
aries between life and art are all characteristicof European Romantic
literature. The Romantic hero emerged when the reader postulated the
existence of the literaryhero's alter ego, that is, the author, in real life
(Zhirmunskii,Greenleaf). When these writersprojected themselves into
the fiction, they discovereda whole range of psychologicalcomplexityand
narrativepossibilities.
This reveals a significantpreoccupation of pre-Realist literature: the
problemof creatingcharacterswho appearto exist and thinkon their own,
independentlyof the narratoror author.In the aforementionedworks, the
authoror narratoris the only excogitatingconsciousnessupon which other
charactersappearto feed. Direct inside views are restrictedto first-person
forms--the epistolary novel, the confession--while third-personworks
concentrateon externalbehavior- action ratherthan attitude.
Pushkinalso employsthe Byronicinterpretationof life and art as well as
a vocal, authoritativenarrator:in the main, he uses external descriptions
that rely heavily on the use of culturalconventionsand stereotypes.Yet he
succeeds in creating characterswho seem to free themselves from the
subjectiveelement, from the authorialor narratorial"I." One key to Push-
kin's achievement, I suggest, is the lyrical essence of his work, which, in
ways I will try to demonstratebelow, frees the charactersfrom the author-
narrator'scontrol.
Boaibmyronpenecrb pa3roBopy.
CnepBa OHerHHa SI3bIK
MeHI cMyula.: HOA npHBbIK
K ero 3sBHreaJIHoMy
cnopy. (1.xlvi)
He who has lived as thinkingbeing
Withinhis soul musthold men small;
He who can feel is alwaysfleeing
The ghost of daysbeyondrecall;
For him enchantment'sdeep infection
Is gone; the snake of recollection
And grimrepentancegnawshis heart.
All this, of course, can help impart
Great charm to private conversation;
And thoughthe languageof my friend
At firstdisturbedme, in the end
I liked his causticdisputation.6
We take this to be the lyric "I" of the narrator until the lines, "Sperva
Onegina iazyk / Menia smushchal; no ia privyk / K ego iazvitel'nomu sporu
[And though the language of my friend / At first disturbed me, in the end / I
liked his caustic disputation]," which reveal the preceding to be the subjec-
tive expression of Onegin's lyric "I." The lyric portion portrays and
thematizes a character's engagement with reality, his own subjective experi-
ence, through free-indirect discourse. None of the stanza is presented in
quotation marks to signal Onegin's voice, but the last two lines betray the
vocal origin. This brief lyrical section creates for the reader Onegin's im-
age, his internal life, in a way not possible through a direct presentation of
a character's thoughts in the author's own "objective" voice. The passage
does not merely describe thoughts; it rather illustrates and thematizes a
way of cognizing the world, of engaging reality. The view is subjective as
well as general, and the passage invites the reader to enter and share this
point of view. The personality, however, is a constructed one with a
forward-moving biography of its own.
First of all, the universality of these lyric passages invites the reader to
participate in the speaker's emotion and identify with the point of view
expressed. Instinctively, the reader internalizes the lyric. In this way, Push-
kin allows the reader access to a subjective mind. Subsequently, the author
attaches the lyrics to a fictional character to create the illusion of an autono-
mously acting and thinking being. Precisely crossing this boundary between
codes is characteristic of Pushkin's highly sophisticated manipulation of the
genre conditions of Romanticism.
The depersonalization and decontextualization characteristic of the lyric
is impossible in the traditional novel, since one of its defining characteris-
tics is specificity of place and time. The Realist novel conventionally oper-
ates by developing a recognizable fictional world distinct from the reader's
own. The novelistic world comes to life outside the reader's soul--it is
grounded in a specific time and place.
The universality of the lyric allows Pushkin to attach it to a certain
character in a certain situation. A curious aspect of Pushkin's lyrics in
general is that, although they create a definite authorial image, this image
shifts with each genre of poem. Lidia Ginzburg notes an absence of a
single, central image, the absence of a lyrical hero in Pushkin's poetry as a
whole. No such unity, according to her, can emerge from Pushkin's multi-
faceted and multi-thematic verse. Rather, it contains an internal unity of
the author's point of view, an intensely developing unity, in which Pushkin
projects various embodiments of his authorial "I" (182).
According to Ginzburg, Pushkin passed through many stages of poetic
development and in each stage created a distinct authorial "I." Pushkin's
easy mastery of each genre and style of poetry contributed to his reputation
for proteanism. In Onegin, Pushkin uses the shifting authorial image of
each genre by attaching it to a different character. For example, Pushkin
initially endows Tatiana with the Sentimental image and Onegin with the
Byronic, but these poetic authorial images, as we shall see, evolve through-
out the novel. Pushkin's poetic narration thereby creates not only distinc-
tive, recognizable characters independent from the author, but also types
associated through genre. Let us examine another example.
In the following passage from chapter 2, Lensky visits the grave of Olga's
father and meditates on death. Here, rather than a character assuming the
narrator's lyric "I," the narrator displaces the character's, with all the
requisite shifts and redefinitions of authority.
H TaMKe HanIIHCblOneqaJnbHoi
OTUaH MaTepH,B cJIe3ax,
OHnpax naTpHapxanbHbIl...
rIOqTHJI
YBbI! Ha XaH3HeHHbIX
6pa3Aax
MrHOBeHHOI )KaTBOfinOKOJIeHbSI,
lo TafgHOfiBoJe npOBHgeHb6,
BocxoAr.T, 3peIOT H nalayT;
XpyrHe HMBocJieg HAyr...
TaK Hame BeTpeHoeniieMa
PacreT, BOJIHyeTCa,KHnHT
H K rpo6y npaAeosB TecHHT.
ripHieT, npHAeT H Hame BpeMS,
H HamILIBHyKHB 1o6pbift qac
H3 MHpa BbITeCHiT H Hac! (2.xxxviii)
And then with verse of quickened sadness
He honored too, in tears and pain,
His parents' dust ... their memory's gladness ....
Alas! Upon life's furrowed plain-
A harvest brief, each generation,
By fate's mysterious dispensation,
Arises, ripens, and must fall;
Then others too must heed the call.
For thus our giddy race gains power:
It waxes, stirs, turns seething wave,
Then crowds its forebears toward the grave.
And we as well shall face that hour
When one fine day our grandsons true
Straight out of life will crowd us too!
rIOKaMecTb ynHBaftTecbelo,
Cefi nerKofi )KH3HHIO,Apy3ba!
Ee HHITO)KHOCTb pa3yMeIo,
H MaJIo K Heft nIpHB3aH i;
Jl, npiH3paKOB3aKpbIJIa BexcbI;
Ho OTanJieHHbieHaAeieKbI
TpeBoxaT cepJuie HHorla:
Be3 HenpHMeTHoro cniega
MHe 6bIo 6 rpycTHOMHpocTaBHTb.
)KHBy, nHrmyHe Rni noxsan;
Ho A 6bi KaxeTCs xKenan
Ile,aanbHbl x)Kpe6HiCBOHInpocJIaBHTb,
XTo6 o60 MHe,KaKBepHbhfi gpyr,
HanoMHHJI XOTbeAHHbIlt3ByK. (2.xxxix)
The lyric "I" is now the narrator's (and, by stylized extension, Pushkin's),
who expatiates on the elegiac theme begun by Lensky. He augments
Lensky's slightly comic lament with his own more serious philosophical
lyricism,7 and ends by referring to his own creation to remove any doubts
the reader may have had as to the identity of the speaker:
H ibe-HH6y/6b
OHcepxge TpOHeT;
H coxpaHeHHaAscyYb60t,
BbITb MOKeT B JIeTe He HOTOHeT
CTpo4a cjaraeMaa MHOA;
BbITbMOweT(jiecTHaSHaARewa!)
YKaxKeT6yxyumkHHesewcga
Ha MOAnpocjaaBeHHbIAnopTpeT,
H MOJIBHT:
TO-TO6bIJI Io0T! (2.xl)
The "I" of the stanza belongs clearly to the narrator who broadens, modi-
fies, and brings down to earth Lensky's image by transferring it into the
realm of his own poetic "I" and supplementing it with his own lyric world
view and presumed life experiences. The scene is originally set in a narra-
tive, fictive situation, but it gradually moves into the realm of lyric and the
"I" of the narrator, whereby Lensky's image acquires more facets and
complexity. Onegin, Tatiana, and Lensky are all subject to similar lyric
narration where the narrator's voice displaces or, depending on the char-
acter, mixes with the character's voice.
In the case of Onegin and Lensky, the narrator describes and creates his
narrative, fictional world, and at moments he shifts to a lyric "I," employ-
ing the fictional world in the same way any lyric "I" would employ non-
fictional reality, that is, as a pretext for his self-referential lyric dilations.
When the identity of the lyric "I" shifts to that of a character, the reader
v. Tatiana
The narrator'sattitude toward Onegin and Lensky is one of almost
locker-roomcamaraderie.He speaks of them from the point of view of a
boon companion, of one who has experienced similar stages of life. He
knows Lensky's Romantic sentiment, Onegin's splenetic Byronism, and
althoughall three charactersseem to be at differentpointsin theirdevelop-
ment, their progressionis along the same trajectoryand throughthe same
life experiences.
The narrator'sattitudetowardTatiana,by contrast,is protective,and he
appearshesitant, even reluctant,to narrateher. As has often been pointed
out in the literature,Tatianais initiallycharacterizedchieflyby her dissimi-
larityto her sister:
character. She has, in fact, the most complex, developed, and dynamic
mental life and world view of any of the characters, which requires differ-
ent and more subtle narrative means.
Similar to the vocal dynamic we saw in the example from Joyce, Push-
kin's presentation of Tatiana's inner life relies on the subtle intertwining of
the voices of narrator and character. In Onegin, however, this character's
voice emerges from and begins to define the narrative texture of the work,
so that the reader senses more strongly her presence than that of any other
character.
Here we move closer to Bakhtin's reading of Eugene Onegin. Although
one does not sense the presence of two voices in the lyric passages Bakhtin
cites as double-voiced (1981, 43-50), other passages do in fact contain two
vocal origins, and most of these passages pertain to the heroine. Tatiana's
voice becomes the object of representation, but at the same time it repre-
sents her in her own characteristic style.
Often in the narrative passages of the novel, the narrator speaks as if
from the point of view of the character he is describing. He does not
express a general world view-as he does with Onegin and Lensky-but
describes a specific situation inseparable from the fictional world. In the
following passage, the tense of the verbs is the standard past tense of
narration, whereas Onegin's lyrics fall out of the action in part due to the
verbal present tense. Here Tatiana has written and sent the fateful letter to
Eugene and awaits his reply:
TaTbSHa,MHias TaTbaHa!
C To601 Tenepb S cje3bi j.bIo;
TbI B pyKHMOXHOrO THpaHa
YK oTTaJIacyab6y CBOIo.
HorH6HemE,MHJIaI;HOnpegAe
TbI 6 ocAenumenbHOUi naaeexc)e
EBaaxeHcmoo meMHoe 30BeIIIb,
TbI nezy XH3HH y3Haemub,
TbI nbemb 60oJue6Hbl1ua iceAlauui.(3.xv)
It should be pointed out that the task of determining from a single passage
of free-indirect discourse (such as I have just quoted) whether a narrator is
H B OAHHOqeCTBe >KeCTOKOM
CuibHee crpacrb ee ropHrT,
H 06 OHerHHegaJIeKoM
EAcepAuerpoMqeroBopHT.
OHa ero He 6ygeT BHseTb;
B HeM HeHaBHReTb
OHa OJiDKHa
In the last three words of the first stanza, "Na chto grustit'? . . [But where-
fore mourn?. .]," the readersenses Tatiana'svoice. The free-indirectdis-
coursehere is similarto the examplecited previouslyfromJoyce, but in the
Oneginpassage,all the surroundingwords, the whole of these two stanzas,
in fact, seem to express Tatiana'sworld view. The narratorhas modulated
his style- tone, syntax, and vocabulary-to Tatiana's.13 Nowheredoes she
speak directly nor does the narratorexplain analyze her inner life, but
or
his
by adjusting style to the character,the narratordescribesTatianaas if
she were speaking,yet more eloquentlyand powerfullythanshe could ever
do herself. This is free-indirectdiscourse- the wordsare grammaticallythe
narrator's,yet emotionallythe character's.Were they voiced by either the
narratoror Tatianaalone, the powerful effect would be lost. Unlike the
lyric free-indirectdiscourse we examined concerningEugene, two voices
resoundat the same time. This is a trulydouble-voicedpassage.14
ThomasShaw(34) pointsto threephasesin the narrator'sdevelopment-
youthfulperceptiveness,disenchantment,and, in the present tense of the
novel, maturere-enchantment.The narratoris able to understandand nar-
rate Eugene'scharacterwhichis, in Shaw'swords, "arrestedat the stage of
disenchantment,"because he too experiencedhis own stage of disenchant-
ment, of world-wearyByronism. Tatiana'sdevelopment, I would argue,
followsa similar,but not identical,pattern.In her stageof youthfulenchant-
ment, she idealizes (or completely fantasizes) Onegin by projectingupon
him her Sentimentalheroes. At this point, the narratorironizes Tatiana
(albeit tenderly), as we saw in the passage from chapter3. In the passage
quoted from chapter 7, Tatianais in the midst of her disenchantment--
reality has not lived up to her ideals--yet it does not take the form of
Onegin's cynicism, which, as Tatianasoon sees in her visit to Onegin's
library,is likewise literarilyinspired. Tatiana'sdisenchantmentwith the
worldis much more reflective,sober, and educative.
The narrator'spresentationsof the cognitivelives of Oneginand Tatiana
differ accordingly.The mental lives of both charactersemerge through
free-indirectdiscourse, but only in Tatiana'ssection do we sense the voice
of both characterand narratorsimultaneously.Eugene's character,we re-
call, emergedfrom the single-voicedlyric and a confusionof vocal origins.
Tatiana'spsychic life is different in kind from Onegin's. His cynical By-
ronismis an aphoristicview of life best expressedby aphoristic,sententious
language.
Tatiana'spsychology,being more complex, requiresdifferentexpression.
Her early enchantmentwas also a kind of "lyricism":a Sentimentalworld
view ironizedby the narratorearly on. Towardthe end of the novel, how-
ever, we encounter a heroine with a view on the world tempered by the
"reality"of everydaylife, the "prose"of life that often (in Oneginat least)
exposesthe lyricworldview as unableto perceiveandadequatelyengagethe
OH OCTaBJIqeT
payT TecHbIi,
gOMOi 3aAyMMHBejeT OH;
Me'Tofi TO rpycTHOf, TO npejiecTHof
Ero BCTpeBOeKHnO3IHHfi COH.
rIpocHyJIc OHeMy npHHOCRT
rlHcbMo: KHI3b H nOKOPHOnpOCHT
Ero Ha Benep. <Boxe! K Hef! ..
6yy6yny!> H cKopefi
O 6y
MapaeT OH OTBeTyITHBbIi.
TITOC HHM?B KaKOMOH CTpaHHOMCHe!
TITOIeBeJIbHynOCb
B rIy6HHe
ymIIHXOJIOJHOfH neHHBOA?
J)ocaaa? cyeTHocTb? HJIbBHOBb
3a6oTa IKHOCTH-
JIo6oBb? (8.xxi)
He left the rout in all its splendor
And drovebackhome, immersedin thought;
A swarmof dreams,both sad and tender,
Disturbedthe slumberthat he sought.
He woke to find, with some elation,
PrinceN. had sent an invitation.
"Oh God! I'll see her ... and today!
Oh yes, I'll go!"-and straightaway
He scrawleda note: he'd be delighted.
What's wrong with him? . . . He's in a daze.
What'sstirringin that idle gaze,
What'smade that frigidsoul excited?
The narrator gives expression to Eugene's inner turmoil by speaking with the
latter's emotional diction. The interrogatives and exclamations are from
Onegin's voice zone, but unlike his previous internal voice, this one is
grounded in the world of the novel. Such sympathetic passages where the
narratornarrates from the character's point of view are so numerous in chap-
ter 8 that they create a new forward-pressing, psychological image of One-
gin. He is now a character no longer able to express himself lyrically, which
was for him a facile genre. In short, he has entered the realm of Tatiana.
Finally, let us look at the evolution of the narrator. By the end of the
novel, he too has evolved. No longer is he the vociferous, dominating, and
quasi-manic presence from chapter 1, continually thrusting himself to the
fore. Like Tatiana and Eugene, he has become more subdued and reflec-
tive. We can explain this change, on the one hand, from a strictly narrative
standpoint: to present a sober, unironized image of Tatiana by mixing his
voice with hers, the narrator's own voice in the surrounding text must to a
certain degree come to resemble the character's. Were the narrator to
maintain his tone and style from chapter 1, we would, of course, have a
totally different image of Tatiana. This narrative modulation endows Tati-
ana's image with tremendous power and presence. Everyone seems to have
entered Tatiana's voice zone.
When the narrator modulates his voice to resemble Tatiana's, we sense
that it is he who enters her voice zone rather than vice-versa. The narra-
tor's voice no longer creates the impression of a dominating external con-
sciousness that we had sensed in chapter 1. At the end of Onegin, the
narrator loses his protective, gently ironic attitude toward Tatiana. He
approaches Tatiana's manner of speaking, and this change in tone creates
the impression that it is Tatiana's voice that has invaded and modified the
narrator's. Eugene, Tatiana, and the narrator are all somehow different by
the end of the novel, but the paradox of Tatiana is that it is she who
maintains the most continuity throughout and yet who experiences real
change. Hence, she appears to subsume all the other voices which arrange
themselves beneath her authority. Her voice zone and, consequently, her
image have attained the most prominent position in the novel. But in what
does this authority and strength consist?
At the beginning of the final chapter, Tatiana is most overtly identified
with Pushkin's muse:
H BOTOHa B cagy MOeM
BIsHnacb 6apbImHek ye3AHoA,
C neqnajbHoftjyMOI) B oqax,
C 4paHmy3cKOA KHEKKOIOB pyKax.
H HbIHeMy3y I BnepBble
Ha cseTCKHipayr npHBoXay.(8.v-vi)
And in my garden she appeared -
A country miss - infatuated,
With mournful air and brooding glance,
And in her hands a French romance.
And now I seize the first occasion
To show my muse a grand soir6e.
At the end of the novel, Tatiana is revealed as the spirit of Pushkin's poetic
inspiration, but she is a poetic spirit qualitatively different from the kind of
poetry associated with Onegin, Lensky, and the narrator, that is, the lyric.
These three male characters inhabit the same voice zone, and through an
interchange of vocal origins, the narrator creates the psychic life of Lensky
and Onegin. With Tatiana, the narrator shares no zone and no voice;
hence, he cannot narrate her thoughts directly. However, by interweaving
his own voice with hers, he penetrates her zone, her poetic aura.
Shaw (35) suggests that the novel stresses the importance of being po-
etic, and Caryl Emerson (1995) along the same lines sees Tatiana as repre-
senting a balanced poetic principle, a verse presence. I would add that
Tatiana's poetic nature is one that has experienced and taken leave of the
lyric view of life, a view in which nothing changes, in which characters and
their utterances are self-sufficient and whole, universal and unchanging.
She is lyric depth that learns to adjust to the arbitrariness and uncertainty
of narrative (life) and to find her own grace within it.
When Eugene passes through life, events do not accumulate and do not
change him. He passes from role to role with no qualitative evolution of
character. See 8.viii, for example, in which Pushkin enumerates Onegin's
roles. Onegin does not mature; he merely changes roles and voices, all of
which are unitary and literary, and when he sees Tatiana's evolution from a
poor, lovesick country girl into the "indifferent princess" and "unapproach-
able goddess" of the Moscow salon, he views her as if she too were playing
a role: "Kak izmenialasia Tat'iana! / Kak tverdo v rol' svoiu voshla! [How
Tatiana has changed! / How firmly she has entered into her own role!]"
(xxvii). But Onegin is wrong. Tatiana is playing no role, but rather living
real "life." This motivates her pragmatic refusal of Onegin at the end.
The ending of the novel disappointed many of Pushkin's contemporary
readers since the hero was neither married nor dead, two conventional
fates. Onegin does not conclude conventionally because Tatiana will not
permit it. She knows and outlines to Eugene the "real-life" toll such marital
infidelity inflicts, and rather than play conventionally, she rejects him. The
roles are reversed at the end, but as the narrator points out, these roles are
not interchangeable:
Eugene wants to return to his previous Tatiana, and his lyric view tells him
that he can. The lyric is static; within it, what is past is not really past, but
somehow always freshly accessible. However, the narrative world is now
Tatiana's. She has control, and for such a narratively oriented character,
things past are things gone.
What Tatiana learns and what brings the narrator into her zone is the
value of leaving -of taking leave of a role, giving in to external pressures,
and surrendering to fate: "No sud'ba moia I Uzh reshena [But my fate / Is
already decided]" (8.xlvii). By accepting her immediate circumstances,
Tatiana becomes a real part of somebody's world. On the one hand, she is
identified with a narrative view of the world, one that has forward move-
ment and leaves behind permanent change. On the other hand, she knows
when to leave the literary. We can view her as a balance of life and art, of
fabula and siuzhet. This is what the narrator wants to learn from Tatiana:
how to take leave of the literary. At the end of the novel, the narrator
recasts himself in Tatiana's zone; she is a continuously created character,
but her creator has more to gain by being inside her rather than outside her.
She teaches him:
BJiaxeH, KTOInpa3AHHKIKH3HH
paHo
OCTaBHJI,He OIIHB RORHa
BoKaja, noJIHoro BHHa,
KTOHe ARoenjee poMaHa
H1BApyryMeJipacCTaTbCac HHM,
KaK X c OHerHHbIMMOHM.(8.1i)
NOTES
1 And perhaps,as Lotmanpointsout, in chapter5 as a witnessto Tatiana'sfortune-telling
(1980, 268-69).
2 I use the termfabula as distinctfromsiuzhetas definedby Tomashevskii(136-46).
3 My accountof lyricdrawson Ginzburg,Olson, Phelan, Cameron,Abrams,Levin, and
Hamburger.
4 The comparativistEarl Miner points out that the mimeticbasis of Westernpoetics as
expoundedby Aristotle is the exception ratherthan the rule when comparedto other
culturalpoetics: "All other examplesof poetics are foundednot on drama,but on lyric.
REFERENCES