It is with considerable pleasure that I meet with you today to discuss the mutual efforts of the community of English scholars, teachers of English and the Office of Education in the enterprise which we have come to call Project English. Just one year ago we were in the throes of attempting to organize this joint effort. As many of you know, this was a period of considerable casting about to determine the directions and magnitude of our effort in this area.

The Protagonist of Alejo Carpentier's short novel El acoso is an informer fleeing from men who would avenge the deaths he has caused. The pursuit and punishment of an informer, not a new plot, is usually developed with rapid pacing and suspense. But Carpentier modifies this traditional story of the chase by breaking it into a mosaic of fragmentary incidents and remembrances arranged without chronological sequence. Adopting certain techniques of the stream-of-consciousness writers, he reduces external action to a minimum and uses interior monologues and confused shreds of memory to show the inner life of his characters. Yet his work is not primarily a psychological study: the combination of two apparently disparate approaches to the novel (one a story line based on a closelyknit, causal-temporal progression and the other a narrative structure determined in part by the flux and shift of consciousness) creates a static and almost allegorical depiction of Betrayal in its various modes and incarnations. This duality of presentation is also evident in the subject matter: definite historical happenings, tied to actual sites in the city of Havana, are the factual ingredients in a drama that seems to be just one possible version of a constant theme. Uniting the particular and the abstract, intertwining the external chain of events (shattered and rearranged according to noncausal principles) with pictures of internal chaos, Carpentier presents both the vision of a traitorous, degenerate world in which man plays out certain prescribed roles and the artistic or literary organization of this drama of the fall. Underlying these elements and binding them together is one of Carpentier's repeated themes—the representation, domination, or denial of time.

The name of Tristan Corbière has scarcely been mentioned in manuals or in histories of French versification. His prosody has been considered neither sufficiently skillful, in the traditional sense, nor sufficiently original to be a model for imitation or an example of innovation. Most biographers and critics who have written about Corbière have mentioned, at least in passing, the peculiarities of his versification, some disapproving of the construction of his lines, and others coming to his defense. Laforgue called Corbière “cassant, concis, cinglant le vers à la cravache,” but he was highly critical of what he described as “incurable indélicatesse d'oreille” and “strophes de tout le monde.” Léon Bocquet, on the other hand, wrote that Corbière possessed “l'oreille musicienne.” That these critics are in such disagreement shows how subjective their judgments of technique are. Laforgue undoubtedly missed in Les Amours jaunes his own kind of prosody, and Bocquet, defending Corbière from the injustices of earlier critics, overstated his case.

The James Osborn Collection of Joyce Cary manuscripts deposited in the Bodleian Library contains all of the extant notebooks, worksheets, trial scenes, and early versions of Cary's works, both published and unpublished, finished and unfinished. This collection, gathering together in one place all of Cary's manuscripts, provides a unique record of the techniques, intentions, and development of an important contemporary novelist. Though the genesis and development of each of Cary's novels can be traced from an examination of the manuscript collection, I have limited this study to the first trilogy because the complexity of the trilogy form provides a deeper insight into Cary's method of writing and because the trilogy form represents his most important literary achievement.

This will be a brief, factual, uncolored, and dull account of the first year of Project English. To understand the first year, however, we should go back a little further.

La projection analytique d'un poème tel que Le Pont Mirabeau abstrait diverses sortes d'éléments sémantiques: tonalités affectives, attitudes, images, motifs intellectuels. Dans le cas du Pont Mirabeau, ce sont ces derniers qui peuvent fournir le plus commodément l'armature d'une analyse claire et distincte. Nous allons poser cette armature, avant de procéder à une analyse du détail. Nous aurons l'occasion de déceler et de placer les autres éléments au cours du développement.

Jerome K. Bruner, the distinguished psychologist from Harvard who may presently be influencing American education more deeply than any other individual, recently asserted that this country is embarked on a permanent revolution in education based on a broad redefinition of the nature of the educational profession. This revolution in the educational Establishment is symbolized, says Bruner, by the presence of Nobel laureates in physics devoting their talents and energies to the devising of school curricula in science. Underlying the revolution is the assumption that “those who know a subject most deeply know best the great and simple structuring ideas in terms of which instruction must proceed.”