Analyze the narrative situation of the excerpt based on Stanzel´s typological circle, it could be authorial, figural, first- person or something in between. The stranger rode in a bullock-cart, but instead of being seated on the rough cushions therein he stood up like a god, holding on to the rail of the cart’s latticework wooden frame with one insouciant hand. A bullock-cart ride was far from smooth, the two-wheeled cart tossing and jerking to the rhythm of the animal’s hoofs, and subject, too, to the vagaries of the highway beneath its wheels. A standing man might easily fall and break his neck. Nevertheless the traveller stood, looking careless and content. The driver had long ago given up shouting at him, at first taking the foreigner for a fool – if he wanted to die on the road, let him do so, for no man in this country would be sorry! Quickly, however, the driver’s scorn had given way to grudging admiration. The man might indeed be foolish, one could go so far as to say that he had a fool’s overly pretty face and wore a fool’s unsuitable clothes – a coat of coloured leather lozenges, in such heat! – but his balance was immaculate, to be wondered at. […] A graceful fool, the driver thought, or perhaps no fool at all.
Analyze the narrative situation of the excerpt based on Stanzel´s typological circle, it could be authorial, figural, first- person or something in between.
The stranger rode in a bullock-cart, but instead of being seated on the rough cushions therein he stood up like a god, holding on to the rail of the cart’s latticework wooden frame with one insouciant hand. A bullock-cart ride was far from smooth, the two-wheeled cart tossing and jerking to the rhythm of the animal’s hoofs, and subject, too, to the vagaries of the highway beneath its wheels. A standing man might easily fall and break his neck. Nevertheless the traveller stood, looking careless and content. The driver had long ago given up shouting at him, at first taking the foreigner for a fool – if he wanted to die on the road, let him do so, for no man in this country would be sorry! Quickly, however, the driver’s scorn had given way to grudging admiration. The man might indeed be foolish, one could go so far as to say that he had a fool’s overly pretty face and wore a fool’s unsuitable clothes – a coat of coloured leather lozenges, in such heat! – but his balance was immaculate, to be wondered at. […] A graceful fool, the driver thought, or perhaps no fool at all.
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