branching and contains very few qualifiers. There, as elsewhere, subtlety depends on
textual strategies which open, rather than close off, signification.
The second linguistic construction of point of view is by means of represented
conversation. Various modes are available to a writer (see Leech and Short 1981), and
all appear in children’s fiction. These modes range from reported speech acts, which are
mainly an aspect of narrative, to direct speech dialogues, which readers must interpret
in the light of their knowledge of the principles and conventions of conversation.
Because the intermediate forms of indirect and free indirect speech representation allow
both for subtle interplay between narratorial and character points of view and for
narratorial control, they have tended to receive most attention in discussions of general
fiction. With children’s fiction, however, more attention needs to be paid to direct speech
dialogue, both because it exists in a higher proportion and because of the general
principle that the narrator in the text appears to have less control over point of view in
dialogue. Leech and Short envisage a cline running between ‘bound’ and ‘free’ forms,
where ‘free’ corresponds with closeness to direct speech (324). But point of view in such
conversations is affected by two factors: the presence of narratorial framing, especially
speech-reporting tags, that is, the devices for identifying speakers which may in
themselves suggest attitudes; and the pragmatic principles which shape conversation.
The following passage illustrates these factors.
When they reached [the others] they slipped in behind Rebecca and Sue Stephens,
and Juniper saw Ellie standing on the pavement buttoned up in her old red coat,
Jake beside her. They waved and smiled.
‘Your mum looks like...a pop star,’ said Sue.
‘No, someone in a TV series,’ said Rebecca.
‘It must be strange to have a mother looking like that,’ went on Sue, still staring
behind her.
‘How would I know? I’ve only had her, haven’t I? I don’t know any different
mother, so I don’t know if it’s strange or not.’
Sue kept on:
‘Is that your dad? That one with the beard?’
‘Shut up,’ hissed Rebecca, then said very loudly and clearly, ‘I liked your reading,
Juniper. You were the best.’
‘You sounded dead miserable but your arm didn’t show. Nobody could tell. I
expect Sir picked you because of being sorry for you. He’s like that. What did you
say?’ asked Sue.
‘I said Abbledy, Gabbledy Flook,’ answered Juniper and then under her breath,
Ere the sun begins to sink, May your nasty face all shrink, which came into her
head out of nowhere, and wished herself away to a wide, pale beach with the shi
ning do wn a nd a white horse galloping at the edge of the incoming tide, far, far away
from the wind slicing down the pavement blowing up grit and rubbish as they made
their way back to school. Kemp 1982:78–79This exchange shows very clearly how meaning in conversations arises not from the
simple sense of individual utterances but from the tenor of utterances in combination
THEORY AND CRITICAL APPROACHES 65