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Importance of Oral Reading

There are several reasons why every boy or girl should strive to become a good reader. In the first place, good oral reading is an accomplishment in itself. It affords a great deal of pleasure to others as well as to ourselves. In the second place, it improves our everyday speech and is also a preparation for public speaking; for the one who reads with distinctness and an accent of refinement is likely to speak in the same way, whether in private conversation or on the public platform. Moreover, it is only one step from reading aloud before the class to recitation, and another step from recitation to public speaking. Lastly, oral reading is the best method of bringing out and conveying to others and to oneself all that a piece of literature expresses. For example, the voice is needed to bring out the musical effects of poetry. The following lines will illustrate this point:

But the sea-caves rung, and the wild winds sung The dirge of lovely Rosabelle.

Here the music of the rhythm and the harmony between sound and sense would be almost entirely lost in silent reading.

The voice, too, is often the surest and most effective means of conveying differences of meaning and feeling in both prose and poetry. The following words from Hervé Riel (pp. 241−247) may be made to convey different meanings according to the intonation of the voice:

Burn the fleet and ruin France?

This may be read to express hesitation and deliberation, or, as is the evident intention, shewn by the context as well as by the punctuation, to express Hervé Riel's surprise and indignation that such a thought should be entertained.

Mechanical Side of Oral Reading

Now in what does oral reading consist? It consists, first of all, in recognizing the words, pronouncing them correctly, and articulating them distinctly. The pupil in the First Book, who is learning to read, is trying to master this side of reading, which is the mechanical side. He cannot be too careful as to the habits of speech he forms; for correct position of the organs of speech and proper control of the breath make for correct pronunciation and distinct articulation, which are two of the foundation stones of good reading.

By correct pronunciation, we mean the pronunciation approved by a standard dictionary. Elegance and refinement of speech depend largely on the correct pronunciation of the vowel sounds. The vowel a, which is sounded in seven different ways in the English language, presents the greatest difficulty. Many people recognize at most, only the sound of a in at, ate, all, far, and mortal respectively. They ignore the sound as in air, and the shorter quantity of the Italian a in ask, giving the sound of a in ate to the former and of a in at or a in all or a in far to the latter. Another difficulty is that of distinguishing the sound of oo in roof, food, etc., from the sound of oo in book and good, and from the sound of u in such words as pure and duke.

Pronunciation, when perfectly pure, should be free from what we call provincialisms; that is, from any peculiarity of tone, accent, or vowel sound, which would mark the speaker as coming from any particular locality. If our pronunciation is perfectly pure, it does not indicate, in the slightest degree, the part of the country in which we have lived.

Distinct articulation requires that each syllable should receive its full value, and that the end of a word should be enunciated as distinctly as the beginning. It depends largely on the way in which we utter the consonants, just as correct pronunciation depends on the enunciation of the vowels. Final consonants are easily slurred, especially in the case of words ending in two or more consonants, which present special difficulties of articulation. Such words are mends, seethes, thirsteth, breathed, etc. Sometimes, too, the careless reader fails to articulate two consonants separately when the first word ends with the consonant or consonant sound with which the second begins; for example, Sir Richard Grenville lay, Spanish ships; or when the first word ends with a consonant and the second begins with a vowel, as in eats apples, not at all, an ox, etc. On the other hand, too evident an effort to secure the proper enunciation of the sound elements should be avoided, since a stilted mode of utterance is thus produced.

Exercises for drill in the vowel sounds and in articulation are provided in Appendix A.

Expression

Oral reading, however, even in its earliest stages, consists in more than recognizing words, pronouncing them correctly, and articulating them distinctly. It includes thinking thoughts, seeing mental pictures, (which is only another form of thinking) and feeling varied emotions—all while the mechanical act of reading is going on. To illustrate, let us take a line from The Island of the Scots:

High flew the spray above their heads, yet onward still they bore.

If we wish to read this line well, what must we do besides pronouncing the words correctly and articulating them distinctly? We must think about the meaning of what we read. This includes two kinds of thinking. In the example we first think the picture presented by the words; that is, we make a mental image of the little band of Scots, hand in hand, trying to ford the swiftly flowing waters of the swollen river. This is called concrete thinking. At the same time we form some judgment based on the picture. We think of the great determination and courage these men showed in struggling forward in spite of the danger. This is called abstract thinking. But, as we have said, a reader does more than think in these two ways—he feels; and feeling, or emotion, comes of itself, if the reader thinks in the two ways described, for emotion is the result of thinking. Especially is it the result of concrete thinking; for what we see, even if only with the mind's eye, stirs our emotions more than that of which we think in the abstract.

While reading the line just quoted, there are three emotions which spring from the thinking. As we see these men struggling against the strong current we have an emotion of fear for them; then as we think of their determination and courage in the face of such great danger, an emotion of determination comes to us, for we identify ourselves with their fortunes; and lastly we are filled with admiration for their heroism. Thus we experience the three emotions of fear, determination, and admiration, while performing the mechanical act of reading the words. These emotions, together with the two kinds of thinking mentioned, affect the voice and the manner of reading, and determine what we call expression. If the words were simply repeated mechanically there would be no expression. Since expression involves the employment of so many different powers at one time, a mastery of the art of expression is much harder to acquire, than a mastery of merely the mechanical side of reading.

Accordingly, good vocal expression springs primarily from something within ourselves—that is, from our mental and emotional state. It cannot be acquired by mechanical imitation, whether of the reading of another, or of the movements, sounds, and gestures indicated in the subject matter of what we read. Nevertheless it is very stimulating to hear a selection well read, not because a model is thus supplied for our imitation, but because we get a grasp of the selection as a whole, and because the voice, which possesses great power in stirring the imagination and the feelings, thus prepares within us the mental and emotional state necessary for the correct expression.

In the same way, imitation of the movements, sounds, and gestures, suggested by the subject matter may be a stimulus to thought and feeling when preparing a selection, since what we have actually reproduced is more real to us than what we have only imagined. After such preparation, imitation, if it enters into the reading at all, will be spontaneous, and not intentional and forced. In reading The Charge of the Light Brigade or The Ride from Ghent to Aix, we do not designedly hurry along to imitate rapidity of movement; but, rather, the imagination having been kindled by the picture, our pulse is quickened, and the voice moves rapidly in sympathy with the feelings aroused.

In the following extract (p. 216) the atmosphere is one of joy. The reader is moved through sympathy with Horatius, and his voice indicates the joy of the Romans, but he does not attempt to imitate vocally, or by gesture, the "shouts," "clapping," and "weeping":

Now round him throng the Fathers To press his gory hands; And now, with shouts and clapping, He enters through the River-Gate, Borne by the joyous crowd.

Sometimes, as already stated, we imitate spontaneously:

Back darted Spurius Lartius; Herminius darted back: And, as they passed, beneath their feet They felt the timbers crack.

Here we imitate spontaneously the movement expressive of sudden fear. Our action is prompted by our own fears for their safety.

Sometimes the feeling is still more complex. In reading the following we spontaneously reproduce Sextus' alternate hate and fear which, moreover, we tinge with our own contempt:

Thrice looked he at the city; Thrice looked he at the dead; And thrice came on in fury, And thrice turned back in dread: And, white with fear and hatred, Scowled at the narrow way Where, wallowing in a pool of blood, The bravest Tuscans lay.

In reading the little poem from The Princess, (page 107) note how we are influenced by the tense emotion of the attendants who speak. We do not try to imitate them; but having made the scene stand out before us, we speak as we in imagination hear them, in an aspirated tone of voice:

She must weep or she will die.

In the last line it would savour of melodrama to try to impersonate the lady as she says:

Sweet my child, I live for thee.

The important point is to show intelligent sympathy with her speech, not to imitate her manner of uttering it.

On the other hand we must not make the mistake of supposing that if we get the thought and the emotion, the true vocal expression will follow. One who has a fine appreciation of a piece of literature may, notwithstanding, read it very indifferently. Even in conversation where we are interpreting vocally our own thoughts and feelings, we sometimes misplace emphasis or employ the wrong inflection. How much more likely we are to fall into such errors when we attempt to interpret vocally from a book the thoughts of another.

Elements of Vocal Expression

In order to criticise ourselves or understand intelligent criticism, we must have a knowledge of the laws that govern speech—that is, we must know what properties of tone or what acts of the voice correspond to certain mental and emotional states. For example, the amount and character of thinking done while we read determines the rate of utterance; the purpose or motive of the thought and its completeness or incompleteness are indicated by an upward or downward slide of the voice; the nervous tension expresses itself in a certain key; the physical and mental energy, in a certain power or volume of the voice; and the character of the emotion is reflected in the quality. These principles of vocal expression are known technically as the elements of time, inflection, pitch, force, and quality. Closely connected with these elements are pause, grouping, stress, emphasis, shading, and perspective.

Pause. It must be quite clear that when we are reading silently, for the purpose of getting the thought for ourselves, our minds are at work as has been described. We shall now examine how this work done by the mind affects the voice and produces what we call good expression when we are reading aloud for the purpose of conveying thought to others. As an illustration we shall take an example from The Glove and the Lions:

The nobles fill'd the benches round, the ladies by their side, And 'mongst them Count de Lorge, with one he hoped to make his bride.

In these lines there are certain words or phrases which stand out prominently, since they call up mental pictures, namely: "nobles," "benches round," "Count de Lorge," and "one." In order to give time to make these mental pictures, we naturally pause after each one. At the end of the first line we combine the details, making a larger mental image, with the result that we make a long pause after "side." In reading the second line, the eye and the mind run ahead of the voice, and the reader, wishing to impress the listener with the new and important idea "Count de Lorge," pauses before it as well as after it. In the same way he pauses before the phrase, "he hoped to make his bride," to prepare the mind of the listener to receive the impression. Thus we see that, if the mind is working, a pause occurs after a word while we are making a mental image or trying to realize the idea more fully, and also often before we express an important idea, in order to prepare the mind of the listener for what is to come.

A very useful exercise in the study of pause is to image the pictures in selections such as the following:

Come from deep glen (picture) and From mountain so rocky; (picture) The war pipe and pennon (picture) Are at Inverlocky. Come every hill-plaid, and True heart that wears one; (picture) Come every steel blade, (picture) and Strong hand that bears one. (picture)

Leave untended the herd, (picture) The flock without shelter; (picture) Leave the corpse uninterred, (picture) The bride at the altar; (picture) Leave the deer, (picture) leave the steer, (picture) Leave nets and barges: (picture) Come with your fighting gear, Broadswords and targes, (picture)

Then, too, in passing from one idea or thought to another, the mind requires time to make the transition:

Stout Lartius hurled down Aunus Into the stream beneath: Herminius struck at Seius, And clove him to the teeth: At Picus brave Horatius Darted one fiery thrust; And the proud Umbrian's gilded arms Clashed in the bloody dust.

Here the mind passes in succession from the action of Lartius to that of Herminius and that of Horatius. A long pause is required after "beneath," "teeth," and "dust," with a shorter pause after "Seius" and after "thrust." Further, if the thoughts concern actions far apart, more time is required to make the transition, and hence a longer pause: