During the early decades of the genre's formation, English novels' material embodiments as printed books rivaled their narrative contents in diversity and creativity. This parallel between formal and stylistic rambunctiousness is unsurprising: novels were the new species of writing, unpoliced by audience expectation or print convention. As a result, writers of prose fiction during the first half of the eighteenth century experimented broadly (and, broadly, every publication was an experiment) with the material presentation of the novel as well as its narrative content. Assisted by printers and publishers, these authors enthusiastically mined print culture for forms that could give shape to the new genre. As the early eighteenth-century novel, or something like it, adopted the printed features of established modes of discourse, it favored forms that signaled the literary heritage and legitimacy of the new literary species: grand subscription lists, promising tables of contents, lengthy dedications, laudatory poems, and lofty prefaces found their way into early novels and the books that housed them. As Gerard Genette and others argue, these framing materials or "paratexts" constitute an integral part of a literary text, occasionally offering a reader fully articulated readings and always subtle interpretive clues. Genette maintains that a printed text's presentation of itself (its title page, illustrations, preface, or even the author's name) is "always the conveyor of a commentary that is authorial or more or less legitimated by the author."(1) Some early novelists, most famously Laurence Sterne, used paratexts to comment on the emerging genre itself and to test its boundaries.(2) Yet, if Sterne borrows promiscuously from print culture, Dada-like, to question hermeneutic cohesion, other authors deploy non-narrative print artifacts to shore up desired readings and anchor their books in print tradition. For example, author-printer Samuel Richardson, another great borrower in the visual production and packaging of the novel, includes an exhaustive, one- hundred-page "Historical and Characteristical Index" in the final volume of Sir Charles Grandison (1754). Modeled on the scholarly apparatuses in scientific reference texts and the entries in conduct books, Grandison's index aims both to guide interpretation and to signal the permanence of the new genre. The entries in the index, from Adam to The World, reveal Richardson's ambitions for the novel. With this index rerum Richardson aims not only to control a reader's memory and interpretation of specific passages, but also to proclaim the lasting utility of his epistolary fiction. In addition to being harnessed with such weighty paratexts, the early novel features graphic designs and pictorial images adapted from established discourses in print culture. These visual borrowings are similarly deployed to mark the novel's legitimacy and signal its participation in the heritage of "high" literature. Perhaps the most prominent example of the graphic packaging of books--prominent, because always found at the front of a work, facing the title page--it is the frontispiece portrait. This subgenre of the longstanding tradition of the author portrait emerges as a feature of British book production in the seventeenth century. Frontispieces commonly offered an engraved likeness of the book's author within a masonry frame, frequently accompanied by a Greek or Latin inscription. This model, what David Piper terms "the equivalent in engraving of the sculpted memorial bust in its niche," constitutes "a formula that repeats for the next two hundred years for hundreds of authors in their frontispieces, varying only in details of dress [and] inscription, but with of course each one individualized by the sitter's own face." By the mid-seventeenth century "the frontispiece is a firmly enough established convention for it to be played about with."(3) Because in some cases frontispiece portraits were Lilliputian copies of pre-existing paintings, adapted for use as an engraving, they conform to the visual conventions of the painted portrait and share, in miniature, that genre's complexities of iconography and composition. …

中文翻译：

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预示类型：从格列佛游记到千禧年大厅的卷首画肖像

在该类型形成的最初几十年中，作为印刷书籍的英语小说的材料体现在多样性和创造性方面可以与它们的叙事内容相媲美。形式上和风格上的喧闹之间的这种平行并不令人惊讶：小说是新的写作种类，不受观众期望或印刷惯例的约束。结果，十八世纪上半叶的散文小说作家对小说的材料呈现及其叙事内容进行了广泛的实验（广义上，每篇出版物都是一种实验）。在印刷商和出版商的协助下，这些作者热情地挖掘印刷文化以寻找可以塑造新体裁的形式。由于十八世纪早期的小说或类似的小说采用了既定的话语模式的印刷特征，它偏爱表明新文学物种的文学遗产和合法性的形式：宏大的订阅名单、有前途的目录、冗长的奉献、赞美诗和崇高的序言，这些都出现在早期小说和收藏它们的书籍中。正如杰拉德·热内特 (Gerard Genette) 和其他人所争论的那样，这些框架材料或“副文本”构成了文学文本的一个组成部分，有时会为读者提供完整清晰的阅读内容和微妙的解释线索。Genette 坚持认为，印刷文本对自身的表现（其标题页、插图、前言，甚至作者姓名）“始终是作者或或多或少合法的评论的传送者。”(1) 一些早期的小说家，最著名的是劳伦斯·斯特恩，使用副文本来评论新兴的体裁本身并测试其界限。 (2) 然而，如果斯特恩混杂地借用达达式的印刷文化来质疑解释学的连贯性，其他作者就会部署非叙述性印刷制品来支持所需的阅读并将他们的书籍锚定在印刷传统中。例如，作家兼印刷人塞缪尔·理查森（Samuel Richardson）是小说视觉制作和包装方面的另一位大借者，他在查尔斯·格兰迪森爵士（Sir Charles Grandison，1754 年）的最后一卷中包含了一份详尽的、长达 100 页的“历史和特征索引”。格兰迪森索引以科学参考文献中的学术工具和行为书籍中的条目为模型，旨在指导解释并表明新体裁的持久性。索引中的条目，从亚当到世界，揭示了理查森的 对小说的抱负。有了这个索引，理查森不仅旨在控制读者对特定段落的记忆和解释，而且还旨在宣扬他的书信小说的持久效用。除了使用如此沉重的副文本之外，早期的小说还采用了改编自印刷文化中既定话语的平面设计和图像。这些视觉借用同样被用来标记小说的合法性，并表明它参与了“高级”文学的遗产。也许最突出的书籍图形包装的例子——突出，因为总是出现在作品的前面，面向扉页——它是卷首肖像。作者肖像这一长期传统的子类型成为 17 世纪英国书籍生产的一个特征。Frontispieces 通常在砖石框架内提供该书作者的雕刻肖像，通常伴随着希腊或拉丁铭文。大卫·派博 (David Piper) 称之为“在其壁龛中雕刻纪念半身像的等价物”，构成了“一个公式，在接下来的 200 年里，数百名作者在其卷首画中重复使用，仅在服装细节上有所不同[和] 铭文，但当然每一个都是由保姆自己的脸个性化的。” 到 17 世纪中叶，“卷首画已经成为一种足够牢固的惯例，可以用来玩了。” (3) 因为在某些情况下，卷首肖像画是先前存在的绘画的小人国复制品，适合用作版画，它们符合肖像画的视觉惯例，并在缩影中分享该流派的肖像和构图的复杂性。…