Заключение

В проведённом нами исследовании, направленном на выявление речевого портрета личности персонажа художественного произведения на материале романа Джона Фаулза "Коллекционер" были рассмотрены следующие понятия: "речевой портрет", "персонаж", "герой"; а также основные моменты, связанные со структурой языковой личности в современных теориях.

В ходе работы был проанализирован ряд примеров, взятых из романа "Коллекционер" Джона Фаулза, что позволило выявить стилистические приёмы, использованные автором при создании речевых портретов героев произведения. При проведении исследования речевого портрета личности персонажа нами были употреблены следующие методы исследования: общенаучные методы, которые включают анализ, синтез, индукцию и дедукцию. Всё это позволило осуществить полное и многогранное исследование речевого портрета личности персонажа художественного произведения.

Глоссарий

Ledgers – книги

Tartan – шотландка, клетчатая шерстяная материя

Snoopy – выслеживающий, назойливо любопытный

Swallow-tail – ласточкин хвост

Veil – вуаль, завеса, покров, фата

Elusive – неуловимый, ускользающий

Sporadic – единичный, нерегулярный, случайный

Foolproof – надёжный, безопасный, понятный

Hiss – шипеть, освистать

Tremendous – потрясающий

Liveable – общительный, уживчивый

Dreary – тоскливый, мрачный, грустный

Rye – рожь

Noble – благородный, знатный, величественный

Dive – погружение, нырнуть

Fizz – шипеть, искриться

Persecute – преследовать, докучать, надоедать

Sneer – насмехаться, глумиться

Blindfold – безрассудный, действующий вслепую, с завязанными глазами

Martyred – мученическая смерть

Beast – зверзский, ужасный

Draughtsman – чертёжник, рисовальщик

Mod – стиляга, ультрамодный человек

Classy – классный, шикарный

To tumble to – понять, догадаться

Rile – раздражать, сердить

Posh – шикарный, превосходный

Whopper – громадина, наглая ложь

Slimy – скользкий, вязкий

To butter up – грубо льстить

Spec – спецификация

To go at - энергично браться за

To give the game away – пробалтываться, выдавать секрет

a lanky gawky giraffe – долговязый неуклюжий жираф

Sheepish – робкий, застенчивый, глуповатый

Unimaginative – лишённый воображения, прозаический

Dowdy beige – безвкусный бежевый

Foul – грязный, отвратительный, скверный

Bloodcurdling – душераздирающий, чудовищный

Heart in mouth - feel extremely nervous

Be green around the gills - to look ill, as if you are going to vomit

Good riddance (to bad rubbish) - good to be rid (of worthless persons or things)

A lone wolf - a person who prefers to do things on their own

A fly in the ointment - someone or something that spoils a situation which could have been successful or pleasant

Behind the scenes - without receiving credit or fame

One's heart is set on something- one desires and expects something

To blow one's own trumpet - to vaunt one's own exploits

Let bygones be bygones - let the past be forgotten.

Список литературы

1. Болотнова Н.С. Об основных понятиях и категориях коммуникативной стилистики текста. - Вестник РГНФ. - 2001. - №3.

2. Болотнова Н.С. Филологический анализ текста. - М.: Флинта, Наука, 2007.

3. Виноградов В.В. О языке художественной прозы - М.: Наука, 1980.

4. Гаспаров М.Л. Художественный мир писателя. Тезаурус формальный и тезаурус функциональный. / Проблемы структурной лингвистики: 1984.

5. Серебренников Б.А., Кубрякова Е.С. Роль человеческого фактора в языке. Язык и мышление. - М.: Наука, 1988.

ПРИЛОЖЕНИЕ

К портрету Миранды Грей

«WHEN she was home from her boarding-school I used to see her almost every day sometimes, because their house was right opposite the Town Hall Annexe. She and her younger sister used to go in and out a lot, often with young men, which of course I didn’t like. When I had a free moment from the files and ledgers I stood by the window and used to look down over the road over the frosting and sometimes I’d see her. In the evening I marked it in my observations diary, at first with X, and then when I knew her name with M. I saw her several times outside too. I stood right behind her once in a queue at the public library down Crossfield Street. She didn’t look once at me, but I watched the back of her head and her hair in a long pigtail. It was very pale, silky, like Burnet cocoons. All in one pigtail coming down almost to her waist, sometimes in front, sometimes at the back. Sometimes she wore it up. Only once, before she came to be my guest here, did I have the privilege to see her with it loose, and it took my breath away it was so beautiful, like a mermaid.» рр.1

«Then she was standing right next me. I was pretending to read a newspaper so I didn’t see her get up. I felt my face was red, I stared at the words but I couldn’t read, I daren’t look the smallest look—she was there almost touching me. She was in a check dress, dark blue and white it was, her arms brown and bare, her hair all loose down her back.» рр. 5

«She stood up and walked round the armchair and leant against the back, eyes on me all the time. She’d taken her blue jumper off, she stood there in a dark green tartan dress, like a schoolgirl tunic, with a white blouse open at the throat. Her hair swept back into the pigtail. Her lovely face. She looked brave. I don’t know why, I thought of her sitting on my knees, very still, with me stroking her soft blonde hair, all out loose as I saw it after.» рр. 13

«Near Redhill I drove off the main road as planned and up a lonely side road and then got in the back to look at her. I laid a torch where it gave a bit of light and I could see. She was awake. Her eyes seemed very big, they didn’t seem frightened, they seemed proud almost, as if she’d decided not to be frightened, not at any price.» рр.9

«All the time she was staring at me. She had great big clear eyes, very curious, always wanting to find out. (Not snoopy, of course.)» рр. 12

«I didn’t know what to say, I was so excited, her there at last in the flesh. So nervous. I wanted to look at her face, at her lovely hair, all of her all small and pretty, but I couldn’t, she stared so at me. There was a funny pause.» рр. 11

«She said, “Jenny, we’re absolutely broke, be an angel and let us have two cigarettes.” The girl behind the counter said, “Not again,” or something, and she said, “Tomorrow, I swear,” and then, “Bless you,” when the girl gave her two. It was all over in five seconds, she was back with the young man, but hearing her voice turned her from a sort of dream person to a real one. I can’t say what was special in her voice. Of course it was very educated, but it wasn’t la-di-da, it wasn’t slimy, she didn’t beg the cigarettes or like demand them, she just asked for them in an easy way and you didn’t have any class feeling. She spoke like she walked, as you might say.» рр.5

«Marriage means love,» she said.

I don’t expect anything, I said. I don’t expect you to do anything that you don’t want. You can do what you like, study art, etcetera. I won’t ask anything, anything of you, except to be my wife in name and live in the same house with me.» рр. 35

«They’re all the same, women like her. It’s not the teenagers and daughters who are different. We haven’t changed, we’re just young. It’s the silly new middle-aged people who’ve got to be young who’ve changed. This desperate silly trying to stay with us. They can’t be with us. We don’t want them to be with us. We don’t want them to wear our clothes-styles and use our language and have our interests. They imitate us so badly that we can’t respect them.» рр. 81

«A martyr. Imprisoned, unable to grow. At the mercy of this resentment, this hateful millstone envy of the Calibans of this world. Because they all hate us, they hate us for being different, for not being them, for their own not being like us. They persecute us, they crowd us out, they send us to Coventry, they sneer at us, they yawn at us, they blindfold themselves and stuff up their ears. They do anything to avoid having to take notice of us and respect us. They go crawling after the great ones among us when they’re dead. They pay thousands and thousands for the Van Goghs and Modiglianis they’d have spat on at the time they were painted. Guffawed at. Made coarse jokes about.» рр. 87

«Fiat lux.

I’ve been playing the Modern Jazz Quartet’s records over and over again. There’s no night in their music, no smoky dives. Bursts and sparkles and little fizzes of light, starlight, and sometimes high noon, tremendous everywhere light, like chandeliers of diamonds floating in the sky.» рр. 104