Longer Fiction or Drama II
161 soru
Read the following passage from George Eliot's 1871 novel, Middlemarch:
"Lydgate's choice of Rosamond Vincy was not, in his own mind, a capitulation to the trivial; he regarded her as the very flower of feminine refinement, a creature whose grace would lend an exquisite harmony to his scientific pursuits. He did not foresee that the delicate ornament he sought to place upon his life would become a weight pressing down his loftiest ambitions. For Rosamond, on her part, wedded not the pioneering medical reformer, but a gentleman of good family who promised a carriage and a position in provincial society. Each stood within a distinct egoism, viewing the other through the refracting medium of their own desires, mistaken for the light of truth. As the weeks of their marriage wore on, the provincial society of Middlemarch looked on with approval, seeing only the standard alignment of beauty and professional promise. The tragedy lay not in a sudden discovery of malice, but in the slow, grinding friction of incompatible illusions. Lydgate believed he was guiding a pliable mind, while Rosamond was convinced she was civilizing a rustic intellect. Thus, their home, which Lydgate had imagined as a sanctuary from the vulgar struggles of his profession, became the primary arena of a silent, unresolved conflict over the definition of social and intellectual worth."
A student reading this passage is developing a thesis for an analytical essay. Which of the following thesis statements represents the most defensible, analytical argument regarding how the couple's conflicting expectations function in the passage?
Consider the following prompt for an essay on a full-length play:
'In dramatic works, a minor character's unexpected betrayal often exposes the fragile alliances within a community or family. Analyze how the consequences of such a betrayal illuminate the play's larger thematic concerns.'
Which of the following represents the most defensible thesis statement for an essay responding to this prompt?
Read the following passage from Chapter 20 of Mary Shelley's novel *Frankenstein* (1818).
(1) I sat one evening in my laboratory. The sun had set, and the moon was just rising from
(2) the sea; I had not sufficient light for my employment, and I remained idle, in a state of
(3) listless irritability, or endeavoured to think of some subject which might amuse me. I
(4) was now about to create another being, of whose dispositions I was alike ignorant; she
(5) might become ten thousand times more malignant than her mate, and delight, for its
(6) own sake, in murder and wretchedness. He had sworn to quit the neighbourhood of man,
(7) and hide himself in deserts; but she had not; and she, who in all probability was to
(8) become a thinking and reasoning animal, might refuse to comply with a compact made
(9) before her creation. They might even hate each other; the creature who already lived
(10) loathed his own deformity, and might he not conceive a greater abhorrence for it when
(11) it came before his eyes in the female form? She also might turn with disgust from him to
(12) the superior beauty of man; she might quit him, and he be again alone, exasperated by
(13) the fresh provocation of being deserted by one of his own species.
(14) Even if they were to leave Europe, and inhabit the deserts of the new world, yet one
(15) of the first results of those sympathies for which the dæmon thirsted would be
(16) children, and a race of devils would be propagated upon the earth, who might make the
(17) very existence of the species of man a condition precarious and full of terror. Had I
(18) a right, for my own benefit, to inflict this curse upon everlasting generations? I had
(19) before been moved by the sophistry of the adversary, and indeed I had been pledged to
(20) perform what he had promised; but now for the first time the wickedness of my promise
(21) burst upon me; I shuddered to think that future ages might curse me as their pest,
(22) whose selfishness had not hesitated to buy its own peace at the price, perhaps, of the
(23) existence of the whole human race.
(24) I trembled, and my heart failed within me; when, on looking up, I saw by the light of
(25) the moon the dæmon at the casement. A ghastly grin wrinkled his lips as he gazed on me,
(26) where I sat fulfilling the task which he had allotted to me. Yes, he had followed me in my
(27) travels; he had loitered in forests, hid himself in caves, or taken refuge on the wide
(28) deserts; and he now came to mark my progress, and claim the fulfilment of my promise.
(29) As I looked on him, his countenance expressed the utmost extent of malice and treachery.
(30) I thought with a sensation of madness on my promise of creating another like to him,
(31) and trembling with passion, tore to pieces the thing on which I was engaged. The wretch
(32) saw me destroy the creature on whose future existence he depended for happiness, and,
(33) with a howl of devilish despair and revenge, withdrew.
In the passage, Victor Frankenstein's sudden destruction of the creature he is working on (lines 30–31) is best understood as the resolution of an internal conflict between his
Directions: The question is based on the following passage from Jane Austen’s 1817 novel *Persuasion*. Read the passage carefully and then choose the best answer.
Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch Hall, in Somersetshire, was a man who, for his own amusement, never took up any book but the Baronetage; there he found occupation for an idle hour, and consolation in a distressed one; there his faculties were roused into admiration and respect, by contemplating the limited remnant of the earliest patents; there any unwelcome sensations, arising from domestic affairs, change of markets, or the gloomy prospect of a new partner, were to be set aside; there he could read his own history with an interest which never failed. This was the page at which the favourite volume always opened: 'ELLIOT OF KELLYNCH HALL.'
Vanity was the beginning and the end of Sir Walter Elliot’s character; vanity of person and of situation. He had been remarkably handsome in his youth; and, at fifty-four, was still a very fine man. Few women could think more of their personal appearance than he did; nor could the valet of any new made lord be more delighted with the place he held in society. He considered the blessing of beauty as inferior only to the blessing of a baronetcy; and the Sir Walter Elliot, who united these gifts, was the constant object of his warmest respect and devotion.
His good looks and his rank had one fair claim on his attachment; since to them he must have owed a wife of very superior character to any thing deserved by his own. Lady Elliot had been an excellent woman, sensible and amiable; whose judgment and conduct, if they might be pardoned the youthful infuation which made her Lady Elliot, had never required indulgence afterwards. She had humoured, or softened, or concealed his failings, and promoted his real respectability for seventeen years; and though not the very happiest being in the world in her domestic relations, had found enough in her duties, her friends, and her children, to attach her to life.
In the passage, Sir Walter Elliot’s devotion to the *Baronetage* and his preoccupation with his own appearance best reflect which of the following aspects of the novel’s social and historical milieu?
Read the following passage from Edith Wharton’s 1920 novel *The Age of Innocence* carefully before answering the question.
"Archer looked at his wife, who was sitting by the fire in a sky-blue dress, her knitting on her knee. She looked up with her clear, untroubled smile.
'May,' he said, stopping in his walk, 'do you know what people are saying about Madame Olenska?'
She did not color, but her knitting needles stopped. 'Yes; I know. That she is going to live in Washington.'
'In Washington? But that means a separation from her husband!'
'I suppose it does. But then, she is so different. And her family are all so anxious that she should be near them.'
Archer looked at her with a feeling of helplessness. The room was warm and quiet; the lamp-light fell on her smooth blonde hair and on the white lilies of the valley in the bowl on the table. Everything in the room seemed to conspire to keep him in a state of comfortable captivity.
'But, May—do you think she is right to do it?'
'Right?' May's eyes opened wide. 'How can I tell? She must know best. And granny thinks it is the only thing to do.'
'But it is contrary to all our traditions—to everything you and I have been brought up to believe.'
She looked at him with a slight surprise. 'But, Newland, we are not going to live in Washington. We are going to stay here, in New York, where we belong.'"
In the passage, the conversational dynamics between Archer and May chiefly serve to illustrate which of the following?
An essay prompt for a longer work of fiction asks:
'Evaluate how a character's physical transformation or illness serves as a metaphor for the moral corruption of their community.'
Which of the following options provides a defensible thesis statement that establishes a clear line of reasoning for this prompt?
Read the following passage from a fictional novel:
> I have always prided myself on the absolute neutrality of my judgments, particularly regarding my ward, Mariana. If I have restricted her correspondence with young Mr. Sterling, it was solely out of a dispassionate regard for her intellectual development, which would surely suffer under the influence of his rather pedestrian letters. It is quite absurd for the housekeeper to suggest that I harbor any jealousy of the young man’s attention toward her. Why, Sterling is a clerk of the most ordinary parts, whereas my own position as her guardian and intellectual mentor places me far above such petty rivalries. When Mariana wept at her desk yesterday, I did not console her, for I know that a disciplined mind is only forged in the fire of solitary reflection. She will, in time, thank me for my firmness, just as she will realize that my decision to intercept their meeting at the garden gate was not an act of intrusion, but the protective vigilance of a disinterested guardian.
The narrator’s insistence on his own "absolute neutrality" is chiefly undermined by which of the following?
Read the following passage from George Eliot's 1871 novel Middlemarch carefully before choosing your answer:
(1) Dorothea and Celia Brooke were looking over their mother's jewels.
(2) "It is difficult to say which of the two sisters was the more potent foil to the other,"
(3) the narrator observes. "The mixture of beauty and handiness in Celia was a contrast to the
(4) dignity and abstract preoccupation of Dorothea." Celia, with her mild persistence,
(5) admired the physical beauty of the gems, suggesting they divide them.
(6) "No, no; you know I have no need of them," Dorothea replied, pushing the box away.
(7) "I should never wear them." Yet, when Celia held up a particular emerald, noting it
(8) looked "like a green drop from the tree of life," Dorothea's attention was momentarily
(9) arrested. "It is very beautiful," Dorothea admitted, before adding, "But I will not
(10) keep it. They are not for me. My life must be different."
In the passage, how does the contrast between Celia's perspective on the jewels and Dorothea's response to them (lines 4–10) function to characterize Dorothea?
Read the following passage from Jane Austen’s 1813 novel, *Pride and Prejudice*:
> Elizabeth was sitting by herself, still reading the letters, when she was startled by a noise which made her look up. To her utter amazement, she saw Mr. Darcy walk into the room. In a hurried manner he immediately began an inquiry after her health, imputing his intrusion to a wish of hearing that she were better. She answered him with cold civility. He sat down for a few moments, and then getting up, walked about the room. Elizabeth was surprised, but said not a word. After a silence of several minutes, he came towards her in an agitated manner, and thus began: 'In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.'
How does the author sequence the events in this passage to build dramatic tension before Darcy's declaration?
Read the following excerpt from Act I of Henrik Ibsen's 1879 play *A Doll's House* carefully:
NORA: You are just like the others. They all think that I am incapable of anything really serious—
MRS. LINDE: Come, come—
NORA: —that I have never known any trouble in this weary world.
MRS. LINDE: My dear Nora, you have just told me all your troubles.
NORA: Pooh!—those trifles. I have not told you the great thing.
MRS. LINDE: The great thing? What do you mean?
NORA: You look down upon me, Kristine; but you ought not to do so. You are proud of having worked so hard and so long for your mother.
MRS. LINDE: Indeed, I do not look down upon anyone. But it is true that I am both proud and glad when I think that I was privileged to make the end of my mother's life almost free from care.
NORA: And you are proud to think of what you have done for your brothers.
MRS. LINDE: I think I have a right to be.
NORA: I think so, too. But now, listen to this, Kristine. I, too, have something to be proud and glad of.
MRS. LINDE: I have no doubt of it. But what is it?
NORA: Speak low. Suppose Torvald were to hear! He mustn't on any account—no one in the world must know, Kristine, except you.
MRS. LINDE: What is it, then?
NORA: It was I who saved Torvald's life.
Which of the following best describes how the contrast between Nora and Mrs. Linde functions in this scene?
Read the following passage from Chapter 23 of Charlotte Brontë's novel *Jane Eyre* (1847).
(1) "I tell you I must go!" I retorted, roused to something like passion.
(2) "Do you think I can stay to become nothing to you? Do you think
(3) I am an automaton?—a machine without feelings? and can bear
(4) to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of
(5) living water spilt from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor,
(6) obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think
(7) wrong!—I have as much soul as you,—and full as much heart! And
(8) if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should
(9) have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to
(10) leave you. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom,
(11) conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh;—it is my spirit that
(12) addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave,
(13) and we stood at God's feet, equal,—as we are!"
(14) "As we are!" repeated Mr. Rochester—"so," he added, enclosing me
(15) in his arms. "So, Jane!"
(16) "Yes, so, sir," I rejoined: "and yet not so; for you are a married
(17) man—or as good as a married man, and wed to one unlike you—
(18) to one with whom you have no sympathy—whom I do not believe you
(19) truly love; for I have seen and heard her; and I will not be your
(20) compeer in her place. Let me go."
(21) "Where, Jane? To Ireland?"
(22) "Yes, to Ireland. I have found a situation, and I must go."
(23) "Jane, be still; don't struggle so, like a wild, frantic bird that is
(24) rending its own plumage in its desperation."
(25) "I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human
(26) being with an independent will, which I now exert to leave you."
(27) Another effort subsided in my getting free, and I stood erect
(28) before him.
(29) "And your will shall decide your destiny," he said: "I offer you
(30) my hand, my heart, and a share of all my possessions."
(31) "You play a farce, which I merely laugh at."
(32) "I ask you to pass through life at my side—to be my second self,
(33) and best earthly companion."
Which of the following best describes the internal conflict revealed by Jane's assertions in lines 25–26 ("I am no bird... leave you")?
Read the following passage from a literary pastiche.
"It is with a sense of profound duty, rather than any desire for personal elevation, that I took upon myself the management of my uncle’s correspondence during those final, clouded months of his life. The family, of course, was quick to whisper of opportunism—as if a man of my intellectual habits could find gratification in the dry details of ledgers and deeds. They did not see, or perhaps chose to ignore, how my uncle clung to my hand, how his eyes sought mine whenever his own children entered the room. His children, after all, had always spoken the language of the market, tallying the inheritance before the pulse had even slowed. I, on the other hand, spoke only of his comfort, of the preservation of his dignity against their vulgar impatience. If I saw fit to restrict their visits, it was merely to shield his fragile spirits from their demanding presence. When he saw fit to alter his will in my favor, it was a spontaneous gesture of gratitude, entirely unprompted by any suggestion of mine. I accepted the bequest not as wealth, but as a sacred trust, a mandate to protect his memory from the very relatives who now seek to defame my character."
In the passage, the narrator’s reliability is chiefly undermined by the tension between which of the following?
Read the following passage from Kate Chopin’s 1899 novel *The Awakening* carefully before choosing the best answer.
On Tuesday afternoon Edna Pontellier dressed herself in a handsome reception gown and sat in the drawing-room to receive callers. It was her customary day for receiving. Many of her friends and acquaintances had called during the afternoon. She had received them in her usual quiet, gracious way.
Leonce Pontellier did not appear for dinner until late. He had been detained at his office. During the meal, he looked about him with a dissatisfied air. The dinner was not to his liking, and he did not hesitate to say so. He complained of the soup, which he declared was tasteless, and the fish, which he asserted was dry.
'It seems to me, Edna,' he said, laying down his fork, 'that you are neglecting your household duties. The house is not run as it should be. A woman’s first duty is to her home, to see that her husband and children are comfortable, and that her household is managed with order and economy. You seem to think of nothing but your own amusement.'
Edna did not reply. She felt a swelling in her throat, but she controlled herself. She had heard these complaints before, but they seemed to have a new and more bitter meaning for her now.
'And another thing,' Leonce continued, 'I notice you did not observe your reception day last week. Several people spoke to me about it. It is extremely important, Edna, that we keep up these social relations. They are necessary for my business, for our position in society. You cannot afford to ignore them.'
'I did not feel like receiving,' Edna said, in a low voice.
'Feel like it!' Leonce exclaimed. 'It is not a question of feeling; it is a question of duty. We have certain obligations to society, and we must fulfill them. I expect you to attend to these matters in the future. I cannot have my wife neglecting her social responsibilities.'
After dinner, Mr. Pontellier went to his club, as was his custom. Edna went out onto the gallery. The night was warm and still, but she felt a cold chill of isolation.
In the passage, Leonce’s reaction to Edna’s neglect of her 'reception day' highlights which of the following aspects of their social and historical milieu?
In the excerpt below, a character experiences a sudden change in his environment:
"For three months, Lionel had lived within the precise geometry of the winter garden—a glass-paneled dome where the heat was regulated to the degree, and the orchids grew in obedient, labeled rows. Here, the air smelled faintly of damp peat and warm iron, a manufactured tropicality that kept the frost at bay but offered no room for wind. He had grown accustomed to its predictable warmth, finding a quiet, numbing comfort in its boundaries. But when the heavy iron doors were finally unlocked in early April, and he stepped onto the open ridge of the northern terrace, the change was violent. The wind, smelling of wet slate and melted snow, struck his face like a physical blow. The sky above was not the safe, cross-hatched glass he had known, but an immense, grey vault that seemed to pull the breath from his lungs. Looking down at the wild valley below, where the pines bent under the force of the gale, Lionel felt a sudden, dizzying expansion within his chest—a sensation that was half terror and half relief, as if the walls of his own mind had suddenly collapsed outward."
How does the shift in setting from the winter garden to the northern terrace function to depict Lionel’s internal state?
Read the following passage from Elizabeth Gaskell's 1855 novel *North and South* carefully before choosing the best answer.
For several miles before they reached Milton, they saw a deep lead-colored cloud hanging over the horizon in the direction in which it lay. It was a projection of the smoke of the town, which the wind was slowly drifting away, but which never could be entirely dispersed. Quick, rattling chimneys rose up into the air, and shut out the valley from the beautiful hills that lay beyond. The air had a faint taste and smell of smoke; indeed, after a minute or two, Margaret’s eyes began to smart.
The sides of the road were crowded with people, mostly women and children, but there were also men, who walked with a slouching, heavy gait, very different from the swinging step of the agricultural laborers. Margaret felt herself jostled and pushed about, and she did not like it. She was accustomed to the respect paid to her father's cloth in Helstone, where even the poorest cottager stood aside with a low bow or a pull of the forelock. Here, the people hurried past, intent on their own business, and seemed to regard her rather as an obstacle to be avoided than as a lady to be treated with deference.
"They are very rude, papa," she whispered, drawing closer to Mr. Hale.
"No, my dear, not rude, only busy and independent," he replied, looking around him with a mild interest. "They have a different way of showing their feelings."
Margaret looked at the girls who were passing; they had shawl-covered heads, and wore wooden clogs, which clattered on the pavement. Their speech was strange and loud, and they laughed with a freedom that Margaret found quite unbefitting their sex and class. When she met the eye of any of the young men, they looked at her with a bold, inquiring stare that made the blood rise to her cheeks. In Milton, it seemed, the social hierarchies that had structured her entire life in the south of England were non-existent, replaced by a raw, mechanical energy that leveled all traditional distinctions save those of wealth and industry. The very streets, built of uniform red brick and echoing with the thrum of steam-engines, seemed to demand a new code of behavior that Margaret was entirely unprepared to adopt.
Margaret’s reaction to the residents of Milton primarily highlights a conflict between her inherited social expectations and which of the following characteristics of the industrial milieu?
Read the following passage carefully:
"The heavy velvet drapes of the parlor in Eaton Square had remained drawn against the afternoon sun, preserving both the mahogany furniture and the stifling, silent decorum that Margaret had endured for a decade. Every ornament—from the gilded French clock ticking out its precise, mechanical demands to the stiff, high-backed chairs—seemed to enforce a rigid social geometry. But as the carriage crossed the boundary of the county line, the landscape dissolved into the wild, untamed expanse of the salt marshes. Here, the road was a mere suggestion, frequently swallowed by the incoming tide, and the wind carried the sharp, briny scent of the open sea. Margaret leaned out of the carriage window, letting the damp air sting her cheeks and dishevel her carefully pinned hair. The transition was absolute: the claustrophobic symmetry of London society was replaced by a fluid, indifferent geography where the horizon stretched without limit, and the only rule was the ancient rhythm of the water."
Which of the following best describes the primary narrative function of the transition from the Eaton Square parlor to the salt marshes?
Read the following passage from a realist novel:
"The carriage had long since passed the parish boundary, yet Margaret remained fixed at the window, staring into the descending gloom of the industrial valley below. Behind her, in the cushioned safety of the coach, her aunt murmured of domestic duties, of suitable matches, and the preserving of the family’s modest name. To Margaret, however, the smoke rising from the ironworks was not a blight but a signal fires of a world in desperate motion. Her aunt saw only the soot that would soil the drawing-room linens; Margaret saw the lives of five hundred souls bound to the rhythm of the steam hammer. She felt a strange, rising rebellion against the quiet parlor that awaited her—a parlor where the tea was served at four and the world’s convulsions were never permitted to disturb the lace curtains. It was not that she despised the comfort, but rather that she feared its silencing weight. To accept the quiet match her family proposed was to agree to a lifelong residency in a glass case, preserved yet entirely dead to the currents of the century."
Which of the following represents the most defensible and analytically sophisticated thesis statement for an essay analyzing Margaret's conflict in the passage?
Read the following passage from Jane Austen's 1815 novel, *Emma*:
"The rest of the gentleman’s conduct was conformable. He took down the picture, and after admiring it sufficiently, and saying all that he could say on the subject, volunteered to carry it to London himself, and have it framed in the handsomest manner. Emma’s eyes were open to the meaning of all this. It was a love-match, or a match of love on Mr. Elton’s side. He was in love with Harriet; he wanted to have her picture always before him; and he was taking this trouble to please both Harriet and herself. It was very pleasant to Emma to see her own planning succeed so well; to observe such strong proof of Harriet’s power; and to look forward to the establishment of her very pretty, very amiable, very happy friend, in a situation of so much comfort and respectability. It was a connection that must suit both parties. She was very nice, and he was very nice. Harriet was of a low origin, to be sure, but she was beautiful, and her manners were now quite refined. Mr. Elton was a gentleman, and a clergyman, and he had a very comfortable income. Nothing could be more fitting. She was quite satisfied with her own work, and she had no doubt of its being completed in due time. She only regretted that Mr. Elton was so very much in love, for it made him rather tiresome."
Which of the following best describes the effect of the narrative perspective in this passage?
Read the following passage carefully:
"The street outside was a churning torrent of iron-rimmed wheels, shouting draymen, and the thick, yellow fog of London that tasted of sulfur and coal dust. Gideon pushed through the heavy oak door of Saint Jude’s, and the tumult of the metropolis was instantly sheared away. The transition was so abrupt that it felt like stepping off a cliff into deep water. Inside, the air was cold and smelled of stone, old beeswax, and the damp breath of the crypts below. Tall, narrow lancet windows filtered the gray afternoon light into dim, purple shafts that barely reached the flagstones of the aisle. The silence here was not merely the absence of sound, but an active force, pressing against his ears and slowing his frantic pulse. He stood in the nave, his coat still damp with the city’s greasy drizzle, looking up at the vaulted ceiling that seemed to disappear into shadow. In the street, he had been a man of business, driven by the ticking of his pocket watch and the fluctuation of prices; here, under the gaze of stone saints whose features had been worn smooth by centuries, his immediate anxieties felt trivial, reduced to the fleeting scratching of an insect."
Which of the following best describes the primary function of the setting change from the London street to the interior of Saint Jude's?
Mr. Pontellier wore eye-glasses. He was a man of forty, of medium height and rather slender build; he was very clean shaved. His hair was brown and straight, parted on one side. His eyes were quick and bright; they were a reddish brown. He computed she was not coming back, and he went on reading his paper. It ruled the market, it seemed, and there was a great deal about the financial outlook. It was a subject which always interested him.
Léonce Pontellier returned to the cottage with the paper under his arm. He walked slowly, looking about him at the garden.
'You are burnt beyond recognition,' he exclaimed, looking at his wife as one looks at a valuable piece of personal property which has suffered some damage. 'You have been out in the sun! What folly!'
He held out his hands, which were clean, white, and well-groomed, showing some fine rings. He looked at them with satisfaction, then went inside to get his hat.
He came out, adjusting his collar, and told his wife that he was going to the club to play billiards.
'Don't stay out in the sun,' he repeated, as he went down the steps. 'It's ruinous to a woman's complexion, and you look like a bundle of rags.'
Mr. Pontellier was a very warm-hearted man, and he loved his wife, but he was a man of his time, and he could not understand how any woman could fail to find her ultimate fulfillment in the domestic sphere he so carefully provided for her.
In the passage, the narrator’s description of Léonce Pontellier and his interactions with his wife primarily serve to illustrate which of the following aspects of the late nineteenth-century social milieu?