Literature's Silent Language

TitleLiterature's silent language: nonverbal communication
AuthorStephen R. Portch
PublisherNew York, Bern, Frankfurt/M., 1985. VIII, 172 pp.
Original fromthe University of Michigan
SeriesVolume 19 of American university studies: English language and literature
American University Studies
ISBN0820401722, 9780820401720
SubjectsLiterary Criticism › American › General
ViidePortch, Stephen R. 1985. Literature's Silent Language: Nonverbal Communication. American University Studies, Vol 19. New York: Peter Lang.

This book suggests that an understanding of nonverbal communication can be applied to our reading of literature, thus enriching our comprehension of characters, style, and meaning - particularly in the short story. Its theoretical framework is established by drawing from the diverse research in nonverbal communication in psychology, physiology, anthropology, and sociology. A combination of these approaches gives the nine categories applied to the reading of the short stories in this study: regulators, body clues, adaptors, physical appearance, vocal tones, touch, space, time, and artifacts. This interdisciplinary approach leads to close readings from a fresh perspective on the following familiar stories from different eras: Nathaniel Hawthorne's «My Kinsman, Major Molineux» and «Young Goodman Brown,» Ernest Hemingway's «The Killers» and «Hills Like White Elephants,» and Flannery O'Connor's «Good Country People» and «The Life You Save May Be Your Own.»
This is the synopsis given by www.peterlang.com
The body oozes messages constantly and communication occurs both consciously and unconsciously, both verbally and nonverbally. The study of nonverbal aspects of communication has attracted, among others, pyschologists and psychiatrists, sociologists and anthropologists, ethologists and linguists. It has spawned a vocabulary of its own ranging from "kinesics" to "pupillometrics," from "paralanguage to "proxemics", from "haptics" to "chronemics." But the systematic application of nonverbal theory to the reading of literature has been largely ignored. Readers frequently listen carefully to what characters say but glide through descriptions of what characters do. This bothered Henry James. (Portch 1985: 1)
He is on to something. Aside from Fernando Poyatos's early articles on this topic in Semiotica, Portch's own study is indeed one of the first mentions of this possibility (of applying nonverbal theory to fictional literature).
In his essay "The Art of Fiction," James reveals his awareness that the nonverbal can indeed trigger communication in alert and perceptive readers: "When the mind is imaginative ... it converts the very pulses of the air into revelations." He refers to the importance of fiction attempting "to represent life" in all its shades and to reaching beyond the artificial boundaries of character, plot, and description; the writer must have "the power to guess the unseen from the seen, to trace the implication of things, to judge the whole piece by the pattern." And the patterns of life for James include the nonverbal: "It is an incident for a woman to stand up with her hand resting on a table and look at you in a certain way. ... At the same time it is an expression of character." (Portch 1985: 1-2)
Thus, for Henry James, nonverbal descriptions "represent life" and enable one to "guess the unseen from the seen, to trace the implication of things" and induce character from expressions. Seems blatantly obvious but perhaps only to me.
The capacity for nonverbal communication is also innate, but a considerable controversy exists over the degree to which the actual performance is learned. Ethologists support the evolutionary, behaviorists the environmental. The former suggests that nonverbal signs have evolved based on survival value and marshal evidence of similarities in nonverbal signs across cultures. The latter suggests that nonverbal signs have been learned through cultural lessons and marshal evidence of differences in nonverbal signs across cultures. (Portch 1985: 2)
This is a familiar distinction, as it was already noted in the 50s (Karl S. Lashley's "Introduction" in Instinctive Behavior). It is perfectly understandable that while the continental ethologists were still studying invertebrates, American behaviorists were already studying the learning capabilities of bigger mammals. It is kind of surprising though that this distinction is marked so clearly here: that ethologists argue for evolutionary evidence and behaviorists for environmental evidence. I don't have much to go on to dismiss this so I'm going to have to take Portch's claim at face value.
Differences also exist in the structure and in the capacity of the two types of communication. The nonverbal does not appear to be as complex or as versatile as the verbal. Efforts have been made to identify the equivalents of phonemes and syntactical rules but with only limited success. Furthermore, the nonverballacks the capabilities of reflexivenessl, of indicating tense, and of referencing the negative. The verbal can talk about itself; the nonverbal can rarely comment on itself. The verbal can indicate present, past, or future; the onverbal can only indicate the present. The verbal can testify to the absence of something; the nonverbal cannot directly indiate absence. To Kenneth Burke, this last point is critical: "The essential distinction between the verbal and nonverbal is the fact that language adds the peculiar possibility of the negative." (Portch 1985: 3)
I don't agree with this at all. I'd say nonverbal is defnitely more complex. Incommensurably so, as the verbal has a linear syntax while the nonverbal is nonlinear, multidimensional and contains immeasurable semantic content. The verbal starts and ends, a text as well as an utterance has a beginning and an end, while one cannot be completely "silent" in nonverbal terms unless one is dead and the body perished. The simple fact that there are no clear self-referential signs or negatives or indications of absence does not mean that nonverbal isn't wholly self-referential towards the person, the interactants and the situation; or that negativity cannot be expressed by nonverbal means; or that absence (of emotion or gesture) is not present.
The implications of these [nonverbal] message characteristics for the interpretation of literature are manifold. T.S. Eliot suggested in his essay on "Hamlet and His Problems," that neither dialogue nor action exists in a void, for Eliot, the true key to unlock the emotional lives of characters turns on the ability to perceive the relationship of seemingly disparate messages:
The only way of expressing emotion in the form of art is by finding an "objective correlative"; in other words, a set of objects, a situation, a chain of events which shall be the formula of that particular emotion; such that when the external facts, which must terminate in the sensory experience, are given, the emotion is immediately evoked.
Although Eliot wrote before the wide interest in the nonverbal had developed, he focused on the relationship between unspoken language and both the context and the spoken as a method of succesfully presenting emotion in art. (Portch 1985: 3-4)
But Eliot is mainly concerned with emotions (as is also clear from his essay on "Tradition and the Individual Talent") or the relationship of personality and emotions.
Further, Eliot touches on another aspect of the effectiveness of the nonverbal emphasized by later nonverbalists: its ability to stimulate a sensory response. In real life, the nonverbal seems to have the potential to by-pass thought routes. In literature (with the exception of performed drama), this would not seem to be possible since the written words have to be absorbed by the eyes and consumed by the mind. But both Eliot and Ernest Hemingway (the writer, Hemingway said, can control readers' responses to make them "feel something more than they understood") suggest that perhaps not all that readers receive from literature follows conscious path, that possibly readers create their own fictional images as they read - images which they unconsciously react to with their senses to receive the basic message. (Portch 1985: 4)
It is interesting that already 1985 this obscure writer had an idea of nonverbalism - here designating the study of nonverbal communication (nonverbalists are researchers and theorists). Generally, this passage touches the important relationship of verbal and nonverbal communication, or rather the case then the latter is mediated by the formed: much may remain implicit in reading (passing) descriptions of nonverbal behaviour.
Also, in real life, several nonverbal messages can be sent simultaneously. Again, in literature, this would not seem to be possible since the written word has the same chronological limitation as the spoken word: only one word can be spoken at a time. But an approximation is possible. For example, an author can choose to describe a number of nonverbal activities by a character before (or between) dialogue - activities which, when examined together, communicate multiple messages. (Portch 1985: 4-5)
This is the general problem of linearity of verbal communication: in literature only a "chronologically" limited combination of words can be realized on the axis of successions (to borrow an outdated saussurean term for syntagmatics).
The context of communication is clearly critical. Words, for instance, carry the charge of the speaker, the spark of the situation. The words themselves are symbols; they become symbols of symbols when written; and the context adds further to the symbolism. The same is true of unspoken dialogue: context communicates. Those who have ignored context in their sexily-titled books on body language have done the study of nonverbal communication considerable harm. Such authors turn a complex communication system into simple equation, wherein certain body signals have consistent meanings.
Edward T. Hall does not make that mistake. Indeed, he recognizes that our very understanding of mankind depends on communication and context:
What is characteristically man - in fact, what gives man his identity no matter where he is born - is his culture, the total communication framework: words, actions, postures, gestures, tones of voice, facial expressions, the way he handles time, space, and materials, and the way he works, plays, makes love, and defends himself. All these things and more are complete communication systems with meanings that can be read correctly only if one is familiar with the behavior in its historical, social, and cultural context.
In defining mankind, Hall comes close to a comprehensive definition of nonverbal communication. (Portch 1985: 6)
This is not a bit surprising, ad E. T. Hall was a cultural anthropologist and these people were very apt in summarizing the whole of human being in "historical, social, and cultural" terms. Of course this is not the complete picture, as we must also consider the biological substrates and personal deviations to get the full view of mankind. Most likely even these categories are missing something that I'm still unknowledgeable about. Also, I do enjoy Portch's ridicule of "sexily-titled" books. I'm not sure which ones he was exactly referring to but many such examples can be found from this century, e.g. The Body Language Rules: A Savvy Guide to Understanding Who's Flirting, Who's Faking and Who's Really Interested. Sourcebooks.
The former system has a narrow focus, placing a spotlight on the behavior of people. This approach views nonverbal communication as a series of physical signs given by one person and possibly received by others. The latter system has a much broader scope, spreading a floodlight across all the elements over which people have some control. This approach views nonverbal communication as multi-dimensional, including not only direct physical elements (such as tone of voice), but also indirect yet humanly controllable elements (such as use of time or choice of clothing). Both systems include a range of behavior from the conscious to the unconscious; both systems acknowledge that the degree of accuracy with which the signs will be read and the codes will be decoded varies with the sensitivity of the receivers. Together these two systems provide a comprehensive method of separating and recognizing nonverbal communication. (Portch 1985: 8)
The key figure in this discussion is "control" - communication concerns that which can be controlled. Presumably all other stuff that is less controllable (such as facial contours, possibly frenological characteristics, etc.) is simply "informative". Or... passive communication? Dno, there are probably good theories for communication typologies.
Like so many other nonverbal elements, silence communicates. Yet because silence has several forms and no sounds, it can present particular interpretation difficulties. As J. Vernon Jensen puts it in his article, "Communicative Functions of Silence," "Silence can communicat scorn, hostility, coldness, defiance, sternness, and hate; but it can also communicate respect, kindness, and acceptance." Silence can signal the act of thinking to some; silence can signify a lack of activity to others. Silence offers both the judgment of assent and dissent; silence generally shows assent for what is being said, but sometimes a noble silence shows dissent. (Portch 1985: 14)
define:assent - "The expression of approval or agreement: "a loud murmur of assent"."
Setting has received considerable attention, even to the point of developing complex systems to describe setting. This is not surprising since we either recognize settings in literature or travel to the vicariously. What is surprising, though, is that all the other classifications and codes described have received scant attention and have been inadequately applied to the study of literature. Yet understanding a character or the point of a piece of literature may well hinge on our sensitivity to a nonverbal occurrence. Some, perhaps, have believed it to be a too expansive and too elusive approach for any one study. They have taken a restrictive approach by isolating a particular aspect (time, for example) and exploring how a particular author uses such an aspect (often in just a single work). Their approach has the value of focus but the limitation of isolating a single code that operates intimately, simultaneously, and revealingly with other codes. The expansive approach taken here invites readers of literature - and specifically readers of the short story - to notice all implicit nonverbal details implanted by the authors and to transplant these into patterns of meaning.
This pattern of meaning may only become clear after a detailed examination of the total nonverbal elements in a work of literature. (Portch 1985: 23-24)
The approach I am taking is expansive (doesn't focus on a single code or modality) but the "pattern of meaning" is predestined - I am studying nonverbal communication in power (in dystopic fiction, in which power relationships are more explicit than in other types of fiction).
Sometimes, authors leave nothing to chance and explicitly interpret the nonverbal. Updike provides an example in his novel Rabbit, Run when he tells readers that Mr. Springer's "painfully complex smile" signifies "a wish to apologize for his wife (we're both men, I know), a wish to keep distant (nevertheless you've behaved unforgivably; don't touch me), and the car salesman's mechanical reflex of politeness." But more often, authors create the nonverbal inconspicuously as part of the overall intricate design of detail - a blueprint too frequently examined only in its parts, too important to continue virtually unnoticed. (Portch 1985: 24)
I think this was handled more thoroughly by Poyatos in his Textual Translation and Live Translation.
This blueprint can be used for any genre. In a comprehensive nonverbal approach, the reader systematically searches for each of the nine elements, seeks to make connections among them, and ultimately, with the help of the nonverbal research, settles on meanings. Such a comprehensive approach is critical, whatever the genre, because certain of these elements so often function together: an angry person both looks and sounds angry. (Portch 1985: 29)
I have done the comprehensive work of picking out the passages where nonverbal phenomena are described or mentioned but I am reluctant to categorize them accordingly as "elements" of "codes". Not because such an approach is fruitless or too demanding but I fail to see the gain in this. Rather, the "modality" or code approach is too selective: it excludes phenomena that do not conform to these categories which are borne out of interaction analysis. Much of what is described in literature is done, seen or thought about by a single individual, perhaps not even the character but the author or narrator.
Of the four genres listed, poetry has received the least attention by those critics interested in the nonverbal. R. P. Blackmur's tantalizingly titled book Language as Gesture: Essays in Poetry begins with the real promise of something new but continues, concludes, and fades away with essays (many of them early essays) that wander from the focus of the first chapter. But in that fascinating first essay, Blacmur does provide an important perspective on gesture (which he leaves largely undefined) in the arts generally and in poems specifically. (Portch 1985: 30)
A useful hint. And coincidentally available in Sebeok's collection [link]. I wonder if by reading it I could appease Ü. Pärli.
The problem with applying a comprehensive nonverbal approach to the novel, though, comes from the sheer lenght of the form. And although, as Eschholz points out, the novel benefits from the nonverbal moments by becoming "more focused and succinct," it does not depend on them in the same way as the short story does. Indeed, a better understanding of the use of the nonverbal in the short story could go a long way in helping to redefine the genre. For externally, the short suffers from an identity crisis. And internally, the short story could certainly be enriched by more attention to the role of the nonverbal. (Portch 1985: 37)
I'm not sure but my empirical material, the three most popular dystopic fictions, are not "real" novels, but rather "novellas" or "short" novels.
The use of the nonverbal is a technique - a technique conceived in "the ability to see the ordinary extraordinarily well" and delivered as, in Eudora Welty's words, "the rippling texture of surface in running water and flowing air ... the palpable shadows and colored reflections ... the matter that mirrored reality." (Portch 1985: 38)
This actually describes nonverbalism well. The quote belongs to Ruth Engelken's "Writing with Description" in the Handbook of Short Story Writing.
What, then does attention to the nonverbal elements add to the reading of Hawthorne's short fiction? Above all else, such an approach focuses attention on the details of the stories themselves. Sufrace realities can only lead to inner truths if those relaities themselves can first be comprehended. And many of these realities are indeed nonverbal ones. Hawthorne loves to tantalize: Dreams. Light. Dark. Shadows. Hawthorne loves a tentative vocabulary: "Perhaps." "Either ... or." "Maybe." Yet he also leaves clues which need to be followed. As with the ending of "My Kinsman, Major Molineux," these clues can provide evidence for arriving at an informed judgment. In essence, this is what Fogle calls the masterful "combination of clarity of technique ... with ambiguity of meaning." And ambiguity may be just what attracted Hawthorne to human nonverbal behavior. All the research in the field confirms the difficulty of deciphering the nonverbal. The nonverbal deals in probabilities. That's ambiguous. In addition to thematic attractions, the onverbal provides Hawthorne with the artistic necessities of brevity and unity within his shorter fiction. The capturing of the essence of a character through just one repeated nonverbal trait, for example, provides Hawthorne with one method for brevity. The consistent pattern of nonverbal details, such as the importance of all vocal tones, provides him with one means for unity. This overall technique, whether consciously used or not, adds to the structural integrity of his mastering an infant genre. (Portch 1985: 84)
The conclusion of the chapter on Nathaniel Hawthorne's short stories. The theoretical baggage to come away from this is that some fiction writers do indeed spell a lot out. And also, Portch seems to be correct in his allusion to probabilities. Very little is fixes in "the nonverbal", as there are no "dictionaries" (aside from Kendon's which is more like a collection of loosely related quips).
Silence - perhaps the ultimate nonverbal signal - often speaks loudly in Hemingway's fiction. This vast, ambiguous lexicon of silence rarely means nothing. As anthropologist William J. Samarin acutely analogizes: "Silence can have meaning. Like the zero in mathematics, it is an absence with a function." (Portch 1985: 91)
This is exactly the field wherein we can find the notorious "zero-sign". I'm not sure if the "empty set" of set theory expresses it quite exactly, but in Ju. Lotman's writings (or those of his followers) we find that "the absence of sign [silence] is also a sign."
This story of failure ends with nothingness. Some starry-eyed readers believe Jig will leave him and live, with a child, of course, happily ever after. Hemingway does nothing to encourage such a consolatory reading. Indeed, her final smile does not suggest rebellion, but submission. As Jig smiles, she says: "'I feel fine. ... 'There's nothing wrong with me. i feel fine'" (178). This is a regrettable regression from her earlier and finer line: "Would you pleas please please please please please please stop talking?" (177). Mary Ritchie Key claims that females "smile more throughout their lifetime, if they 'learned their lesson well' - that females are supposed to be pleasant. ..." She further points out that the smile as a "submissive gesture" can also be witnessed in captive chimpanzees, surviving prisoners-of-war, and successful servants. There could be elements of all of these in the Jig of the future.
The diminating dialogue, then, odesn't penetrate deeply. But below and around that dialogue, Hemingway has rooted the story in crucial nonverbal clues. Following essentially the same nonverbal patterns as he did in "The Killers," Hemingway uses, to some degree or another, all but one of the nonverbal classifications and codes: touch. That omission seems particularly appropriate in this story - a story devoid of what touch can represent: intimacy. O'Connor would take this a step further and say that Hemingway and his readers lack intimacy. He complains that "Hemingway ... has so studied the artful approach to the significant moment that we sometimes end up with too much significance and too little information." (Portch 1985: 109)
Quoted at lenght because Portch's style of interweaving quotes from fiction and quotes and "pieces of the puzzle" from nonverbalists is worth emulating.
Almost without exception, O'Connors concept of the body troubles the critics - perhaps no critic more os than Martha Stephens:
For what is oppressive about the O'Connor work as a whole, what is sometimes intolerable, is her stubborn refusal to see any good, any beauty or dignity or meaning, in ordinary human life on earth. A good indicator of what must be called O'Connor's contempt for ordinary human life is the loathing with which she apparently conteplated the human body. ... Human beings are ugly in every way; the human form itself is distinctly unpleasant to behold; human life is a sordid, almost unrelievedly hideous affair. The only human act that is worthy of respect is the act of renouncing all wordly involvement, pleasure, and achievement.
Bodies in O'Connor do lakc beauty. But Stephens is overreacting and misreading. O'Connor uses the body primarily to show its limitations and to reveal how all too often it shapes personality and limits the spirit. She seeks to force us, however, to take a look beyond our bodies and outside of this world. (Portch 1985: 12)
I tend to sympathize with this critic as I too sometimes see nothing aesthetic in human life, it is a socially ordered movement of bones and tissue, ugly in every sense. Yet I do understand Portch's counter-argument which seems to stem from the Platonic trope of "the body is an endless source of trouble" (I do need to re-read Apologia de Socrates).
Her use of regulators and vocal tones in this and other stories reinforces her belief that "you can't say anything meaningful about the mystery of a personality unless you put that personality in a believable and significant social context. And the best way to do this is through the character's own language." In fact, she goes on to criticize stories that are empty of certain nonverbal features, stories in which the "characters have no distinct speech to reveal themselves with; and sometimes they have no really distinctive features." And by language she meant much more than the words themselves. She made her characters come alive through a combination of their actions, their dialogue, and their nonverbal traits. (Portch 1985: 134-135)
It seems that my initial preconception was somewhat correct: nonverbal communication in literature has much to do with character development.
The three authors studied here seem to have mastered many of the possibilities. Other mentions in passing (particularly Twain and James) or as exmaples also appear to have been alert to some of the potential of nonverbal communication. Their awareness, however, probably occurs because of the perceptiveness of human behavior demanded by their art form. Only occasionally do we find any reference by an author to the research or to the specialized language used by those who study nonverbal behavior. We can certainly speculate that as the research in the field becomes more generally known and widely adapted that authors will perhaps become more conscious of the potential of nonverbal communication to function as a specific technique in their work. Such consciousness, however, might well be detrimental to their art - especially if some authors begin to use any of the expressive jargon that goes with so much of the research. The research simply labels what all good writers have always known. (Portch 1985: 147-148)
I imagine it would be awful (to the non-scientific population) if fiction writers started freely using the metalanguage of nonverbalism. I bet they already do to some extend, but not overly... As is said here, the best writers knew how to describe nonverbal communication long before research followed. There is even a bit in Huxley's Brave New World which precipitates the "sexual encounter" mapped by Desmond Morris some three decades later.
critics and teachers must develop the skills to recognize the subtlety that often surrounds the author's use of the nonverbal, but he [Poyatos] errs in suggesting that Faulkner and Hemingway have no real interest in the nonverbal. As we have seen, for example, Hemingway's use may not be as apparent or as flambouyant as DIckens', but it is every bit as important to his art and to his meaning. For that matter, the medium of nonverbal communication itself often operates in rather quiet ways, so its subtle use in literature comes all the closer to versimilitude. (Portch 1985: 154)
I do remember Poyatos even in his 2008 book claim that writers like Hemingway have little to do with nonverbal communication. And I tend to agree with Portch:; spotting nonverbal communiaction in literature is harder than it is - as it is - in everyday life.
Nonverbal Research Sources
Works Consulted (selection concerning Nonverbal Research)
  • Barker, Larry L. and Nancy B. Collins. "Nonverbal and Kinesic Research." In Methods of Research in Communication: Ed. P. Emmert and W. D. Brooks. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1970, pp. 343-71.
  • Berscheid, Ellen, Elaine Walster, and George Bohrnstedt. "Body Image: The Happy American Body." Psychology Today, 7 (1973), 119-23 and 126-31.
  • Burke, Kenneth. The Philosophy of Literary Form: Studies in Symbolic Action. 2nd ed. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State Univ. Press, 1967. [utlib]
  • Davis, Flora. Inside Intuition: What We Know About Nonverbal Communication. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1973. [Google Books]
  • Davids, Joel R., and Louis J. Davitz. "The Communication of Feelings by Content-Free Speech." Journal of Communication, 9 (1959), 6-13
  • Eisenberg, Abnem, and Ralph R. Smith, Jr. Nonverbal Communication. New York: Bobbs-Merrill, 1971.
  • Ekman, Paul. "Facial Signs: Facts, Fantasies, and Possibilities," In Sight, Sound, and Sense. Ed. Thomas A. Sebeok. Bloomington: Indiana Univ. Press, 1978, pp. 124-56. [utlib]
  • Ekman, Paul, and Wallace V. Friesen. The Facial Action Coding Sytem: A Manual for the Measurement of Facial Movement. Palo Alto, Ca.: Consulting Psychologists' Press, 1977.
  • Ekman, Paul. "Hand Movements." The Journal of Communication, 22 (1972), 353-74.[Google Books]
  • Ekman, Paul. "Measuring Facial Movement." Environmental Psychology and Nonverbal Behavior, 1 (1976), 56-75.
  • Fabun, Don. Communications: The Transfer of Meaning. 2nd Ed. Beverly Hills, Ca.: Glencoe Press, 1968. [Google Books]
  • Gibson, James J. "Observations on Active Touch." Psychological Review, 69 (1962), 477-91.
  • Harper, Robert G., Arthur N. Wiens, and Joseph D. Matarazzo. Nonverbal Communication: The State of the Art. New York: John Wiley and Sons, 1978. [Google Books]
  • Harrison, Randall P., and Wayne W. Crouch. "Nonverbal Communication: Theory and Research." In Communication and Behavior. Ed. Gerhard J. Haneman and William J. McEwen. Reading, Ma.: Addison-Wesley, 1975, pp. 76-96. [Google Books]
  • Jourard, Sidney M. and Paul F. Second. "Body-Cathexis and Personality." British Journal of Psychology, 46 (1955), 130-38.
  • Montagu, Ashley. "Communication, Evolution, and Education." In The Human Dialogue: Perspectives on Communication. Ed. Floyd W. Matson and Ashley Montagu. New York: Free Press, 1967, pp. 445-55.
  • Ruesch, Jurgen, and Weldon Kees. "Function and Meaning in the Physical Environment." In Environmental Psychology: Ed. H. M. Proshansky, W. H. Ittelson, and L. G. Rivlin. New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston, 1969, pp. 141-53.
  • Smith, Howard A. "Nonverbal Communication in Teaching." Review of Educational Research, 49 (1979), 631-72.


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