Card 0 of 16
Adapted from Hung Lou Meng, Book I; or, The Dream of the Red Chamber: A Chinese Novel by Cao Xueqin, (c.1716–1763) (trans. H. Bencraft Joly, 1892–93)
\[At this point in the novel, Tai-yü has left her father’s house and traveled to go live with her grandmother.\]
Lin Tai-yü had often heard her mother recount how different was her grandmother's house from that of other people's; and having seen for herself how \[extravagant\] were already the attendants of the three grades, (sent to wait upon her,) in attire, in their fare, in all their articles of use, "how much more," she thought to herself, "now that I am going to her home, must I be careful at every step, and circumspect at every moment! Nor must I utter one word too many, nor make one step more than is proper, for fear lest I should be ridiculed by any of them!”
. . .
An entrance hall stood in the center, in the middle of which was a door-screen of Ta Li marble, set in an ebony frame. In the \[courtyard\] were five parlors, the frieze of the ceiling of which was all carved, and the pillars ornamented. In the side-rooms were suspended cages, full of parrots of every color, thrushes, and birds of every description.
Three or four \[waiting maids\] forthwith vied with each other in raising the door curtain, while at the same time was heard some one announce: "Miss Lin has arrived."
No sooner had she entered the room, than she espied two servants supporting a venerable lady, with silver-white hair, coming forward to greet her. Convinced that this lady must be her grandmother, she was about to prostrate herself and pay her obeisance, when she was quickly clasped in the arms of her grandmother, who held her close against her bosom; and as she called her "My liver! My flesh!" (My love! My darling!) she began to sob aloud.
The bystanders too, at once, without one exception, melted into tears; and Tai-yü herself found some difficulty in restraining her sobs. Little by little the whole party succeeded in consoling her, and Tai-yü at length paid her obeisance to her grandmother. Her ladyship thereupon pointed them out one by one to Tai-yü. "This," she said, "is the wife of your uncle, your mother's elder brother; this is the wife of your uncle, her second brother; and this is your eldest sister-in-law Chu, the wife of your senior cousin Chu."
Tai-yü bowed to each one of them with folded arms.
"Ask the young ladies in," dowager lady Chia went on to say. "Tell them a guest from afar has just arrived, one who comes for the first time; and that they may not go to their lessons."
Not long after three nurses and five or six waiting-maids were seen ushering in three young ladies. In their head ornaments, jewelry, and dress, the get-up of the three young ladies was identical.
Tai-yü speedily rose to greet them and to exchange salutations. After they had made each other's acquaintance, they all took a seat, whereupon the servants brought the tea. Their conversation was confined to Tai-yü's mother—how she had fallen ill, what doctors had attended her, what medicines had been given her, and how she had been buried and mourned. Dowager lady Chia was naturally again in great anguish.
"Of all my daughters," she remarked, "your mother was the one I loved best, and now in a twinkle, she has passed away, before me too, and I've not been able to so much as see her face. How can this not make my heart sore-stricken?"
And as she gave vent to these feelings, she took Tai-yü's hand in hers, and again gave way to sobs, and it was only after the members of the family had quickly made use of much exhortation and coaxing that they succeeded, little by little, in stopping her tears.
They all perceived that Tai-yü, despite her youthful years and appearance, was ladylike in her deportment and address, and that though with her delicate figure and countenance, she seemed as if unable to bear the very weight of her clothes, she possessed, however, a certain captivating air. And as they readily noticed the symptoms of a weak constitution, they went on in consequence to make inquiries as to what medicines she ordinarily took, and how it was that her complaint had not been cured.
Hardly had she finished \[replying\], when a sound of laughter was heard from the back courtyard. "Here I am too late!" the voice said, "and not in time to receive the distant visitor!"
"Every one of all these people," reflected Tai-yü, "holds her peace and suppresses the very breath of her mouth; and who, I wonder, is this coming in this reckless and rude manner?"
The attire of this person bore no similarity to that of the young ladies. In all her splendor and luster, she looked like a fairy or a goddess. On her person, she wore a tight-sleeved jacket, of dark red flowered satin, covered with hundreds of butterflies, embroidered in gold, interspersed with flowers. Her stature was elegant; her figure graceful; her powdered face like dawning spring, majestic, yet not haughty.
Tai-yü eagerly rose and greeted her. She was just at a loss how to address her, when all her cousins informed Tai-yü, that this was her sister-in-law Lien.
Tai-yü lost no time in returning her smile and saluting her with all propriety, addressing her as "my sister-in-law." \[Lien\] laid hold of Tai-yü's hand, and minutely scrutinized her, for a while, from head to foot, after which she led her back next to dowager lady Chia, where they both took a seat.
What can we infer from the content and placement of the underlined paragraph in the context of the entire passage?
The underlined paragraph is the second paragraph in the passage. In the paragraph that precedes it, the audience is informed about Tai-yü's concern that she will make some sort of social misstep while living at her grandmother's residence. Then, a paragraph break occurs, and the underlined paragraph begins the next section of the text:
An entrance hall stood in the center, in the middle of which was a door-screen of Ta Li marble, set in an ebony frame. In the \[courtyard\] were five parlors, the frieze of the ceiling of which was all carved, and the pillars ornamented. In the side-rooms were suspended cages, full of parrots of every color, thrushes, and birds of every description.
The underlined paragraph provides visual detail about the setting in which the rest of the passage takes place. It mentions several things that are opulent and we can infer would cost a lot of money: a door-screen made of marble and ebony; many parlors with carved ceilings and ornamented pillars, and pet birds.
Nothing about this description allows us to infer that each resident owns exactly one caged bird. While multiple people seem to live at this location, the birds are described in general terms: we don't learn of an exact number of them that we could associate with an exact number of residents, and nothing is mentioned to make this connection without data. It's also not reasonable to infer that the story's location is one where the weather forces people to remain inside, since we are told that the area includes a "courtyard," which is an outdoor area. We also don't learn anything that would support the idea that Tai-yü's grandmother suddenly became very wealthy. While the descriptions of items we can infer are expensive suggest that she is wealthy at the time the passage's events take place, we don't learn anything about her past, so we can't claim that she suddenly became very wealthy; she may have been wealthy all her life.
The only remaining answer choice is the correct one: "This is likely the first time that this setting has been introduced in the story." The paragraph consists of extensive description of the setting, and this description would not be necessary if the reader were already familiar with the details of the location. Furthermore, we know that this is the first time that Tai-yü is visiting this location, and the passage begins by focusing on her as the main character.
Compare your answer with the correct one above
Adapted from Hung Lou Meng, Book I; or, The Dream of the Red Chamber: A Chinese Novel by Cao Xueqin, (c.1716–1763) (trans. H. Bencraft Joly, 1892–93)
\[At this point in the novel, Tai-yü has left her father’s house and traveled to go live with her grandmother.\]
Lin Tai-yü had often heard her mother recount how different was her grandmother's house from that of other people's; and having seen for herself how \[extravagant\] were already the attendants of the three grades, (sent to wait upon her,) in attire, in their fare, in all their articles of use, "how much more," she thought to herself, "now that I am going to her home, must I be careful at every step, and circumspect at every moment! Nor must I utter one word too many, nor make one step more than is proper, for fear lest I should be ridiculed by any of them!”
. . .
An entrance hall stood in the center, in the middle of which was a door-screen of Ta Li marble, set in an ebony frame. In the \[courtyard\] were five parlors, the frieze of the ceiling of which was all carved, and the pillars ornamented. In the side-rooms were suspended cages, full of parrots of every color, thrushes, and birds of every description.
Three or four \[waiting maids\] forthwith vied with each other in raising the door curtain, while at the same time was heard some one announce: "Miss Lin has arrived."
No sooner had she entered the room, than she espied two servants supporting a venerable lady, with silver-white hair, coming forward to greet her. Convinced that this lady must be her grandmother, she was about to prostrate herself and pay her obeisance, when she was quickly clasped in the arms of her grandmother, who held her close against her bosom; and as she called her "My liver! My flesh!" (My love! My darling!) she began to sob aloud.
The bystanders too, at once, without one exception, melted into tears; and Tai-yü herself found some difficulty in restraining her sobs. Little by little the whole party succeeded in consoling her, and Tai-yü at length paid her obeisance to her grandmother. Her ladyship thereupon pointed them out one by one to Tai-yü. "This," she said, "is the wife of your uncle, your mother's elder brother; this is the wife of your uncle, her second brother; and this is your eldest sister-in-law Chu, the wife of your senior cousin Chu."
Tai-yü bowed to each one of them with folded arms.
"Ask the young ladies in," dowager lady Chia went on to say. "Tell them a guest from afar has just arrived, one who comes for the first time; and that they may not go to their lessons."
Not long after three nurses and five or six waiting-maids were seen ushering in three young ladies. In their head ornaments, jewelry, and dress, the get-up of the three young ladies was identical.
Tai-yü speedily rose to greet them and to exchange salutations. After they had made each other's acquaintance, they all took a seat, whereupon the servants brought the tea. Their conversation was confined to Tai-yü's mother—how she had fallen ill, what doctors had attended her, what medicines had been given her, and how she had been buried and mourned. Dowager lady Chia was naturally again in great anguish.
"Of all my daughters," she remarked, "your mother was the one I loved best, and now in a twinkle, she has passed away, before me too, and I've not been able to so much as see her face. How can this not make my heart sore-stricken?"
And as she gave vent to these feelings, she took Tai-yü's hand in hers, and again gave way to sobs, and it was only after the members of the family had quickly made use of much exhortation and coaxing that they succeeded, little by little, in stopping her tears.
They all perceived that Tai-yü, despite her youthful years and appearance, was ladylike in her deportment and address, and that though with her delicate figure and countenance, she seemed as if unable to bear the very weight of her clothes, she possessed, however, a certain captivating air. And as they readily noticed the symptoms of a weak constitution, they went on in consequence to make inquiries as to what medicines she ordinarily took, and how it was that her complaint had not been cured.
Hardly had she finished \[replying\], when a sound of laughter was heard from the back courtyard. "Here I am too late!" the voice said, "and not in time to receive the distant visitor!"
"Every one of all these people," reflected Tai-yü, "holds her peace and suppresses the very breath of her mouth; and who, I wonder, is this coming in this reckless and rude manner?"
The attire of this person bore no similarity to that of the young ladies. In all her splendor and luster, she looked like a fairy or a goddess. On her person, she wore a tight-sleeved jacket, of dark red flowered satin, covered with hundreds of butterflies, embroidered in gold, interspersed with flowers. Her stature was elegant; her figure graceful; her powdered face like dawning spring, majestic, yet not haughty.
Tai-yü eagerly rose and greeted her. She was just at a loss how to address her, when all her cousins informed Tai-yü, that this was her sister-in-law Lien.
Tai-yü lost no time in returning her smile and saluting her with all propriety, addressing her as "my sister-in-law." \[Lien\] laid hold of Tai-yü's hand, and minutely scrutinized her, for a while, from head to foot, after which she led her back next to dowager lady Chia, where they both took a seat.
The first paragraph has which of the following effects on the rest of the passage?
In the first paragraph, we learn that Tai-yü is expecting her grandmother's house to be very different from any house in which she's lived. Seeing how extravagant her grandmother's attendants are prompts Tai-yü to worry about making a social mistake and embarrassing herself in this new milieu. After this paragraph, there is a paragraph break, and then the rest of the paragraph begins. Tai-yü's grandmother's house is described, and then her entrance is announced.
The first paragraph works in a specific way to influence how readers understand the rest of the material that follows after the paragraph break. It does not "\[emphasize\] how Tai-yü initially assumes that her grandmother's house will be similar to her mother's." We learn that Tai-yü assumes the opposite: that her grandmother's house will be very different from other people's. Furthermore, it does not "\[suggest\] that Tai-yü has never before been in a formal social situation that demands good manners, and that she is not aware that her behavior will be judged." She is very aware that her behavior will be judged, to the point where she is concerned about making a social error. Finally, it does not "\[allow\] the reader to infer that Tai-yü is only pretending to be the granddaughter of the woman she is going to visit and is not actually related to her." Nothing in the passage suggests that this is the case.
The correct answer is that the first paragraph "adds tension by informing the audience that Tai-yü is afraid of embarrassing herself at her grandmother's residence before she arrives there." The placement of the paragraph as the first one in the passage allows the reader to understand how Tai-yü is feeling about traveling to live with her grandmother. This insight into her thoughts and feelings in the first paragraph adds another layer of interpretation to the rest of the passage: the reader understands that as Tai-yü interacts with her grandmother and relatives, she is nervous about embarrassing herself.
Compare your answer with the correct one above
Passage adapted from Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1798)
There passed a weary time. Each throat
Was parched, and glazed each eye.
A weary time! a weary time!
How glazed each weary eye,
When looking westward, I beheld
A something in the sky.
At first it seemed a little speck,
And then it seemed a mist:
It moved and moved, and took at last
A certain shape, I wist.
A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist!
And still it neared and neared:
As if it dodged a water-sprite,
It plunged and tacked and veered.
With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
We could not laugh nor wail;
Through utter drought all dumb we stood!
I bit my arm, I sucked the blood,
And cried, A sail! a sail!
With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
Agape they heard me call:
Gramercy! they for joy did grin,
And all at once their breath drew in,
As they were drinking all.
See! see! (I cried) she tacks no more!
Hither to work us weal;
Without a breeze, without a tide,
She steadies with upright keel!
The western wave was all a-flame
The day was well nigh done!
Almost upon the western wave
Rested the broad bright Sun;
When that strange shape drove suddenly
Betwixt us and the Sun.
And straight the Sun was flecked with bars,
(Heaven's Mother send us grace!)
As if through a dungeon-grate he peered,
With broad and burning face.
Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)
How fast she nears and nears!
Are those her sails that glance in the Sun,
Like restless gossameres!
Are those her ribs through which the Sun
Did peer, as through a grate?
And is that Woman all her crew?
Is that a DEATH? and are there two?
Is DEATH that woman's mate?
Her lips were red, her looks were free,
Her locks were yellow as gold:
Her skin was as white as leprosy,
The Night-Mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she,
Who thicks man's blood with cold.
The naked hulk alongside came,
And the twain were casting dice;
"The game is done! I've won! I've won!"
Quoth she, and whistles thrice.
The Sun's rim dips; the stars rush out:
At one stride comes the dark;
With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea.
Off shot the spectre-bark.
Introducing the figure of "LIFE IN DEATH" as a far-off "speck" the author _____________.
The given in this question is that the figure of "LIFE IN DEATH" is first identified as a far-off "speck," before gradually coming into the full view of the crew. Before we jump too far into this question, let's make sure we understand all of the terms used in our potential answer choices.
To begin a narrative "in media res" is to start that narrative in the middle of the action, with no exposition. An example of an in media res opening is: "A shot rang out. The door slammed. A girl screamed." We don't know which girl, nor even which door, but already we've heard a shot!
Dramatic irony occurs when the audience is aware of something that the characters are not. Thus, when we watch the characters acting obliviously to knowledge we, the audience, have it creates dramatic irony. For instance, if one knows that Romeo and Juliet are doomed to die at the end of the play, all of their actions throughout the play create dramatic irony, as they are acting without that knowledge.
Narrative tension can be roughly defined as suspense. It is tension created by the withholding of information from the audience.
The passage does NOT begin in media res, as the very first thing that happens is waiting ("pass\[ing\] a weary time")! Nor is dramatic irony created, as the audience is equally in the dark about what the far-off speck is as are the characters. So, the question we must settle now is simple. Does starting the figure of "LIFE IN DEATH" as an obscure far-away object that must be guessed at before finally being revealed create narrative tension, or not?
The answer is that it does. Because the object is obscure to the narrator, the other characters, and the audience, a feeling of suspense is created as we, and the characters, must guess as the object slowly approaches, rather than knowing exactly what the object is the whole time.
Compare your answer with the correct one above
Adapted from Edgar Allen Poe’s The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym (1838)
Upon my return to the United States a few months ago, after the extraordinary series of adventure in the South Seas and elsewhere, of which an account is given in the following pages, accident threw me into the society of several gentlemen in Richmond, Va., who felt deep interest in all matters relating to the regions I had visited, and who were constantly urging it upon me, as a duty, to give my narrative to the public. I had several reasons, however, for declining to do so, some of which were of a nature altogether private, and concern no person but myself; others not so much so.
One consideration which deterred me was that, having kept no journal during a greater portion of the time in which I was absent, I feared I should not be able to write, from mere memory, a statement so minute and connected as to have the appearance of that truth it would really possess, barring only the natural and unavoidable exaggeration to which all of us are prone when detailing events which have had powerful influence in exciting the imaginative faculties.
Another reason was, that the incidents to be narrated were of a nature so positively marvellous that, unsupported as my assertions must necessarily be (except by the evidence of a single individual, and he a half-breed Indian), I could only hope for belief among my family, and those of my friends who have had reason, through life, to put faith in my veracity-the probability being that the public at large would regard what I should put forth as merely an impudent and ingenious fiction. A distrust in my own abilities as a writer was, nevertheless, one of the principal causes which prevented me from complying with the suggestions of my advisers.
Among those gentlemen in Virginia who expressed the greatest interest in my statement, more particularly in regard to that portion of it which related to the Antarctic Ocean, was Mr. Poe, lately editor of the "Southern Literary Messenger," a monthly magazine, published by Mr. Thomas W. White, in the city of Richmond. He strongly advised me, among others, to prepare at once a full account of what I had seen and undergone, and trust to the shrewdness and common-sense of the public-insisting, with great plausibility, that however roughly, as regards mere authorship, my book should be got up, its very uncouthness, if there were any, would give it all the better chance of being received as truth.
Notwithstanding this representation, I did not make up my mind to do as he suggested. He afterward proposed (finding that I would not stir in the matter) that I should allow him to draw up, in his own words, a narrative of the earlier portion of my adventures, from facts afforded by myself, publishing it in the "Southern Messenger" under the garb of fiction. To this, perceiving no objection, I consented, stipulating only that my real name should be retained. Two numbers of the pretended fiction appeared, consequently, in the "Messenger" for January and February (1837), and, in order that it might certainly be regarded as fiction, the name of Mr. Poe was affixed to the articles in the table of contents of the magazine.
The manner in which this ruse was received has induced me at length to undertake a regular compilation and publication of the adventures in question; for I found that, in spite of the air of fable which had been so ingeniously thrown around that portion of my statement which appeared in the "Messenger" (without altering or distorting a single fact), the public were still not at all disposed to receive it as fable, and several letters were sent to Mr. P.'s address, distinctly expressing a conviction to the contrary. I thence concluded that the facts of my narrative would prove of such a nature as to carry with them sufficient evidence of their own authenticity, and that I had consequently little to fear on the score of popular incredulity.
This exposé being made, it will be seen at once how much of what follows I claim to be my own writing; and it will also be understood that no fact is misrepresented in the first few pages which were written by Mr. Poe. Even to those readers who have not seen the "Messenger," it will be unnecessary to point out where his portion ends and my own commences; the difference in point of style will be readily perceived.
-A.G Pym
What event inspired the narrator to write the passage?
This question asks you to accurately understand the order and causal relationship of events described in the passage. Here, you need to display an understanding of the basic chronology of the events described in addition to a nuanced ability to distinguish how this chronology mutually influences the actions of the narrator and other characters.
The first step to answering this question is also the exact same question you should, and naturally will, ask yourself when encountering any text: What happened? The basic events of this story must be ascertained before you can move on to assessing in what order they happened and which events influenced which other events.
The first thing that happened was that the narrator, Arthur Pym, had an "extraordinary series of adventures in the South Seas and elsewhere," about which he was, in spite of his reluctance, encouraged to share with the public in the form of a "memoir." From there, Pym resisted the calls to write down his narrative both out of embarrassment about the quality of his own writing and his concern that the events, to which he was the only witness, would not be believed. Ultimately, Edgar Allen Poe convinced Pym to orally tell him about his adventures, and fictionalized them under his own name. Readers, however, saw through the subterfuge and believed the events recounted. It was at that Pym decided to write down his own version of events.
So, the correct answer is that Poe's publication of a fictionalized version of Pym (the narrator)'s adventures motivated his telling of events in the given passage.
Compare your answer with the correct one above
Adapted from Hung Lou Meng, Book I; or, The Dream of the Red Chamber: A Chinese Novel by Cao Xueqin, (c.1716–1763) (trans. H. Bencraft Joly, 1892–93)
\[At this point in the novel, Tai-yü has left her father’s house and traveled to go live with her grandmother.\]
Lin Tai-yü had often heard her mother recount how different was her grandmother's house from that of other people's; and having seen for herself how \[extravagant\] were already the attendants of the three grades, (sent to wait upon her,) in attire, in their fare, in all their articles of use, "how much more," she thought to herself, "now that I am going to her home, must I be careful at every step, and circumspect at every moment! Nor must I utter one word too many, nor make one step more than is proper, for fear lest I should be ridiculed by any of them!”
. . .
An entrance hall stood in the center, in the middle of which was a door-screen of Ta Li marble, set in an ebony frame. In the \[courtyard\] were five parlors, the frieze of the ceiling of which was all carved, and the pillars ornamented. In the side-rooms were suspended cages, full of parrots of every color, thrushes, and birds of every description.
Three or four \[waiting maids\] forthwith vied with each other in raising the door curtain, while at the same time was heard some one announce: "Miss Lin has arrived."
No sooner had she entered the room, than she espied two servants supporting a venerable lady, with silver-white hair, coming forward to greet her. Convinced that this lady must be her grandmother, she was about to prostrate herself and pay her obeisance, when she was quickly clasped in the arms of her grandmother, who held her close against her bosom; and as she called her "My liver! My flesh!" (My love! My darling!) she began to sob aloud.
The bystanders too, at once, without one exception, melted into tears; and Tai-yü herself found some difficulty in restraining her sobs. Little by little the whole party succeeded in consoling her, and Tai-yü at length paid her obeisance to her grandmother. Her ladyship thereupon pointed them out one by one to Tai-yü. "This," she said, "is the wife of your uncle, your mother's elder brother; this is the wife of your uncle, her second brother; and this is your eldest sister-in-law Chu, the wife of your senior cousin Chu."
Tai-yü bowed to each one of them with folded arms.
"Ask the young ladies in," dowager lady Chia went on to say. "Tell them a guest from afar has just arrived, one who comes for the first time; and that they may not go to their lessons."
Not long after three nurses and five or six waiting-maids were seen ushering in three young ladies. In their head ornaments, jewelry, and dress, the get-up of the three young ladies was identical.
Tai-yü speedily rose to greet them and to exchange salutations. After they had made each other's acquaintance, they all took a seat, whereupon the servants brought the tea. Their conversation was confined to Tai-yü's mother—how she had fallen ill, what doctors had attended her, what medicines had been given her, and how she had been buried and mourned. Dowager lady Chia was naturally again in great anguish.
"Of all my daughters," she remarked, "your mother was the one I loved best, and now in a twinkle, she has passed away, before me too, and I've not been able to so much as see her face. How can this not make my heart sore-stricken?"
And as she gave vent to these feelings, she took Tai-yü's hand in hers, and again gave way to sobs, and it was only after the members of the family had quickly made use of much exhortation and coaxing that they succeeded, little by little, in stopping her tears.
They all perceived that Tai-yü, despite her youthful years and appearance, was ladylike in her deportment and address, and that though with her delicate figure and countenance, she seemed as if unable to bear the very weight of her clothes, she possessed, however, a certain captivating air. And as they readily noticed the symptoms of a weak constitution, they went on in consequence to make inquiries as to what medicines she ordinarily took, and how it was that her complaint had not been cured.
Hardly had she finished \[replying\], when a sound of laughter was heard from the back courtyard. "Here I am too late!" the voice said, "and not in time to receive the distant visitor!"
"Every one of all these people," reflected Tai-yü, "holds her peace and suppresses the very breath of her mouth; and who, I wonder, is this coming in this reckless and rude manner?"
The attire of this person bore no similarity to that of the young ladies. In all her splendor and luster, she looked like a fairy or a goddess. On her person, she wore a tight-sleeved jacket, of dark red flowered satin, covered with hundreds of butterflies, embroidered in gold, interspersed with flowers. Her stature was elegant; her figure graceful; her powdered face like dawning spring, majestic, yet not haughty.
Tai-yü eagerly rose and greeted her. She was just at a loss how to address her, when all her cousins informed Tai-yü, that this was her sister-in-law Lien.
Tai-yü lost no time in returning her smile and saluting her with all propriety, addressing her as "my sister-in-law." \[Lien\] laid hold of Tai-yü's hand, and minutely scrutinized her, for a while, from head to foot, after which she led her back next to dowager lady Chia, where they both took a seat.
What can we infer from the content and placement of the underlined paragraph in the context of the entire passage?
The underlined paragraph is the second paragraph in the passage. In the paragraph that precedes it, the audience is informed about Tai-yü's concern that she will make some sort of social misstep while living at her grandmother's residence. Then, a paragraph break occurs, and the underlined paragraph begins the next section of the text:
An entrance hall stood in the center, in the middle of which was a door-screen of Ta Li marble, set in an ebony frame. In the \[courtyard\] were five parlors, the frieze of the ceiling of which was all carved, and the pillars ornamented. In the side-rooms were suspended cages, full of parrots of every color, thrushes, and birds of every description.
The underlined paragraph provides visual detail about the setting in which the rest of the passage takes place. It mentions several things that are opulent and we can infer would cost a lot of money: a door-screen made of marble and ebony; many parlors with carved ceilings and ornamented pillars, and pet birds.
Nothing about this description allows us to infer that each resident owns exactly one caged bird. While multiple people seem to live at this location, the birds are described in general terms: we don't learn of an exact number of them that we could associate with an exact number of residents, and nothing is mentioned to make this connection without data. It's also not reasonable to infer that the story's location is one where the weather forces people to remain inside, since we are told that the area includes a "courtyard," which is an outdoor area. We also don't learn anything that would support the idea that Tai-yü's grandmother suddenly became very wealthy. While the descriptions of items we can infer are expensive suggest that she is wealthy at the time the passage's events take place, we don't learn anything about her past, so we can't claim that she suddenly became very wealthy; she may have been wealthy all her life.
The only remaining answer choice is the correct one: "This is likely the first time that this setting has been introduced in the story." The paragraph consists of extensive description of the setting, and this description would not be necessary if the reader were already familiar with the details of the location. Furthermore, we know that this is the first time that Tai-yü is visiting this location, and the passage begins by focusing on her as the main character.
Compare your answer with the correct one above
Adapted from Hung Lou Meng, Book I; or, The Dream of the Red Chamber: A Chinese Novel by Cao Xueqin, (c.1716–1763) (trans. H. Bencraft Joly, 1892–93)
\[At this point in the novel, Tai-yü has left her father’s house and traveled to go live with her grandmother.\]
Lin Tai-yü had often heard her mother recount how different was her grandmother's house from that of other people's; and having seen for herself how \[extravagant\] were already the attendants of the three grades, (sent to wait upon her,) in attire, in their fare, in all their articles of use, "how much more," she thought to herself, "now that I am going to her home, must I be careful at every step, and circumspect at every moment! Nor must I utter one word too many, nor make one step more than is proper, for fear lest I should be ridiculed by any of them!”
. . .
An entrance hall stood in the center, in the middle of which was a door-screen of Ta Li marble, set in an ebony frame. In the \[courtyard\] were five parlors, the frieze of the ceiling of which was all carved, and the pillars ornamented. In the side-rooms were suspended cages, full of parrots of every color, thrushes, and birds of every description.
Three or four \[waiting maids\] forthwith vied with each other in raising the door curtain, while at the same time was heard some one announce: "Miss Lin has arrived."
No sooner had she entered the room, than she espied two servants supporting a venerable lady, with silver-white hair, coming forward to greet her. Convinced that this lady must be her grandmother, she was about to prostrate herself and pay her obeisance, when she was quickly clasped in the arms of her grandmother, who held her close against her bosom; and as she called her "My liver! My flesh!" (My love! My darling!) she began to sob aloud.
The bystanders too, at once, without one exception, melted into tears; and Tai-yü herself found some difficulty in restraining her sobs. Little by little the whole party succeeded in consoling her, and Tai-yü at length paid her obeisance to her grandmother. Her ladyship thereupon pointed them out one by one to Tai-yü. "This," she said, "is the wife of your uncle, your mother's elder brother; this is the wife of your uncle, her second brother; and this is your eldest sister-in-law Chu, the wife of your senior cousin Chu."
Tai-yü bowed to each one of them with folded arms.
"Ask the young ladies in," dowager lady Chia went on to say. "Tell them a guest from afar has just arrived, one who comes for the first time; and that they may not go to their lessons."
Not long after three nurses and five or six waiting-maids were seen ushering in three young ladies. In their head ornaments, jewelry, and dress, the get-up of the three young ladies was identical.
Tai-yü speedily rose to greet them and to exchange salutations. After they had made each other's acquaintance, they all took a seat, whereupon the servants brought the tea. Their conversation was confined to Tai-yü's mother—how she had fallen ill, what doctors had attended her, what medicines had been given her, and how she had been buried and mourned. Dowager lady Chia was naturally again in great anguish.
"Of all my daughters," she remarked, "your mother was the one I loved best, and now in a twinkle, she has passed away, before me too, and I've not been able to so much as see her face. How can this not make my heart sore-stricken?"
And as she gave vent to these feelings, she took Tai-yü's hand in hers, and again gave way to sobs, and it was only after the members of the family had quickly made use of much exhortation and coaxing that they succeeded, little by little, in stopping her tears.
They all perceived that Tai-yü, despite her youthful years and appearance, was ladylike in her deportment and address, and that though with her delicate figure and countenance, she seemed as if unable to bear the very weight of her clothes, she possessed, however, a certain captivating air. And as they readily noticed the symptoms of a weak constitution, they went on in consequence to make inquiries as to what medicines she ordinarily took, and how it was that her complaint had not been cured.
Hardly had she finished \[replying\], when a sound of laughter was heard from the back courtyard. "Here I am too late!" the voice said, "and not in time to receive the distant visitor!"
"Every one of all these people," reflected Tai-yü, "holds her peace and suppresses the very breath of her mouth; and who, I wonder, is this coming in this reckless and rude manner?"
The attire of this person bore no similarity to that of the young ladies. In all her splendor and luster, she looked like a fairy or a goddess. On her person, she wore a tight-sleeved jacket, of dark red flowered satin, covered with hundreds of butterflies, embroidered in gold, interspersed with flowers. Her stature was elegant; her figure graceful; her powdered face like dawning spring, majestic, yet not haughty.
Tai-yü eagerly rose and greeted her. She was just at a loss how to address her, when all her cousins informed Tai-yü, that this was her sister-in-law Lien.
Tai-yü lost no time in returning her smile and saluting her with all propriety, addressing her as "my sister-in-law." \[Lien\] laid hold of Tai-yü's hand, and minutely scrutinized her, for a while, from head to foot, after which she led her back next to dowager lady Chia, where they both took a seat.
The first paragraph has which of the following effects on the rest of the passage?
In the first paragraph, we learn that Tai-yü is expecting her grandmother's house to be very different from any house in which she's lived. Seeing how extravagant her grandmother's attendants are prompts Tai-yü to worry about making a social mistake and embarrassing herself in this new milieu. After this paragraph, there is a paragraph break, and then the rest of the paragraph begins. Tai-yü's grandmother's house is described, and then her entrance is announced.
The first paragraph works in a specific way to influence how readers understand the rest of the material that follows after the paragraph break. It does not "\[emphasize\] how Tai-yü initially assumes that her grandmother's house will be similar to her mother's." We learn that Tai-yü assumes the opposite: that her grandmother's house will be very different from other people's. Furthermore, it does not "\[suggest\] that Tai-yü has never before been in a formal social situation that demands good manners, and that she is not aware that her behavior will be judged." She is very aware that her behavior will be judged, to the point where she is concerned about making a social error. Finally, it does not "\[allow\] the reader to infer that Tai-yü is only pretending to be the granddaughter of the woman she is going to visit and is not actually related to her." Nothing in the passage suggests that this is the case.
The correct answer is that the first paragraph "adds tension by informing the audience that Tai-yü is afraid of embarrassing herself at her grandmother's residence before she arrives there." The placement of the paragraph as the first one in the passage allows the reader to understand how Tai-yü is feeling about traveling to live with her grandmother. This insight into her thoughts and feelings in the first paragraph adds another layer of interpretation to the rest of the passage: the reader understands that as Tai-yü interacts with her grandmother and relatives, she is nervous about embarrassing herself.
Compare your answer with the correct one above
Passage adapted from Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1798)
There passed a weary time. Each throat
Was parched, and glazed each eye.
A weary time! a weary time!
How glazed each weary eye,
When looking westward, I beheld
A something in the sky.
At first it seemed a little speck,
And then it seemed a mist:
It moved and moved, and took at last
A certain shape, I wist.
A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist!
And still it neared and neared:
As if it dodged a water-sprite,
It plunged and tacked and veered.
With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
We could not laugh nor wail;
Through utter drought all dumb we stood!
I bit my arm, I sucked the blood,
And cried, A sail! a sail!
With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
Agape they heard me call:
Gramercy! they for joy did grin,
And all at once their breath drew in,
As they were drinking all.
See! see! (I cried) she tacks no more!
Hither to work us weal;
Without a breeze, without a tide,
She steadies with upright keel!
The western wave was all a-flame
The day was well nigh done!
Almost upon the western wave
Rested the broad bright Sun;
When that strange shape drove suddenly
Betwixt us and the Sun.
And straight the Sun was flecked with bars,
(Heaven's Mother send us grace!)
As if through a dungeon-grate he peered,
With broad and burning face.
Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)
How fast she nears and nears!
Are those her sails that glance in the Sun,
Like restless gossameres!
Are those her ribs through which the Sun
Did peer, as through a grate?
And is that Woman all her crew?
Is that a DEATH? and are there two?
Is DEATH that woman's mate?
Her lips were red, her looks were free,
Her locks were yellow as gold:
Her skin was as white as leprosy,
The Night-Mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she,
Who thicks man's blood with cold.
The naked hulk alongside came,
And the twain were casting dice;
"The game is done! I've won! I've won!"
Quoth she, and whistles thrice.
The Sun's rim dips; the stars rush out:
At one stride comes the dark;
With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea.
Off shot the spectre-bark.
Introducing the figure of "LIFE IN DEATH" as a far-off "speck" the author _____________.
The given in this question is that the figure of "LIFE IN DEATH" is first identified as a far-off "speck," before gradually coming into the full view of the crew. Before we jump too far into this question, let's make sure we understand all of the terms used in our potential answer choices.
To begin a narrative "in media res" is to start that narrative in the middle of the action, with no exposition. An example of an in media res opening is: "A shot rang out. The door slammed. A girl screamed." We don't know which girl, nor even which door, but already we've heard a shot!
Dramatic irony occurs when the audience is aware of something that the characters are not. Thus, when we watch the characters acting obliviously to knowledge we, the audience, have it creates dramatic irony. For instance, if one knows that Romeo and Juliet are doomed to die at the end of the play, all of their actions throughout the play create dramatic irony, as they are acting without that knowledge.
Narrative tension can be roughly defined as suspense. It is tension created by the withholding of information from the audience.
The passage does NOT begin in media res, as the very first thing that happens is waiting ("pass\[ing\] a weary time")! Nor is dramatic irony created, as the audience is equally in the dark about what the far-off speck is as are the characters. So, the question we must settle now is simple. Does starting the figure of "LIFE IN DEATH" as an obscure far-away object that must be guessed at before finally being revealed create narrative tension, or not?
The answer is that it does. Because the object is obscure to the narrator, the other characters, and the audience, a feeling of suspense is created as we, and the characters, must guess as the object slowly approaches, rather than knowing exactly what the object is the whole time.
Compare your answer with the correct one above
Adapted from Edgar Allen Poe’s The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym (1838)
Upon my return to the United States a few months ago, after the extraordinary series of adventure in the South Seas and elsewhere, of which an account is given in the following pages, accident threw me into the society of several gentlemen in Richmond, Va., who felt deep interest in all matters relating to the regions I had visited, and who were constantly urging it upon me, as a duty, to give my narrative to the public. I had several reasons, however, for declining to do so, some of which were of a nature altogether private, and concern no person but myself; others not so much so.
One consideration which deterred me was that, having kept no journal during a greater portion of the time in which I was absent, I feared I should not be able to write, from mere memory, a statement so minute and connected as to have the appearance of that truth it would really possess, barring only the natural and unavoidable exaggeration to which all of us are prone when detailing events which have had powerful influence in exciting the imaginative faculties.
Another reason was, that the incidents to be narrated were of a nature so positively marvellous that, unsupported as my assertions must necessarily be (except by the evidence of a single individual, and he a half-breed Indian), I could only hope for belief among my family, and those of my friends who have had reason, through life, to put faith in my veracity-the probability being that the public at large would regard what I should put forth as merely an impudent and ingenious fiction. A distrust in my own abilities as a writer was, nevertheless, one of the principal causes which prevented me from complying with the suggestions of my advisers.
Among those gentlemen in Virginia who expressed the greatest interest in my statement, more particularly in regard to that portion of it which related to the Antarctic Ocean, was Mr. Poe, lately editor of the "Southern Literary Messenger," a monthly magazine, published by Mr. Thomas W. White, in the city of Richmond. He strongly advised me, among others, to prepare at once a full account of what I had seen and undergone, and trust to the shrewdness and common-sense of the public-insisting, with great plausibility, that however roughly, as regards mere authorship, my book should be got up, its very uncouthness, if there were any, would give it all the better chance of being received as truth.
Notwithstanding this representation, I did not make up my mind to do as he suggested. He afterward proposed (finding that I would not stir in the matter) that I should allow him to draw up, in his own words, a narrative of the earlier portion of my adventures, from facts afforded by myself, publishing it in the "Southern Messenger" under the garb of fiction. To this, perceiving no objection, I consented, stipulating only that my real name should be retained. Two numbers of the pretended fiction appeared, consequently, in the "Messenger" for January and February (1837), and, in order that it might certainly be regarded as fiction, the name of Mr. Poe was affixed to the articles in the table of contents of the magazine.
The manner in which this ruse was received has induced me at length to undertake a regular compilation and publication of the adventures in question; for I found that, in spite of the air of fable which had been so ingeniously thrown around that portion of my statement which appeared in the "Messenger" (without altering or distorting a single fact), the public were still not at all disposed to receive it as fable, and several letters were sent to Mr. P.'s address, distinctly expressing a conviction to the contrary. I thence concluded that the facts of my narrative would prove of such a nature as to carry with them sufficient evidence of their own authenticity, and that I had consequently little to fear on the score of popular incredulity.
This exposé being made, it will be seen at once how much of what follows I claim to be my own writing; and it will also be understood that no fact is misrepresented in the first few pages which were written by Mr. Poe. Even to those readers who have not seen the "Messenger," it will be unnecessary to point out where his portion ends and my own commences; the difference in point of style will be readily perceived.
-A.G Pym
What event inspired the narrator to write the passage?
This question asks you to accurately understand the order and causal relationship of events described in the passage. Here, you need to display an understanding of the basic chronology of the events described in addition to a nuanced ability to distinguish how this chronology mutually influences the actions of the narrator and other characters.
The first step to answering this question is also the exact same question you should, and naturally will, ask yourself when encountering any text: What happened? The basic events of this story must be ascertained before you can move on to assessing in what order they happened and which events influenced which other events.
The first thing that happened was that the narrator, Arthur Pym, had an "extraordinary series of adventures in the South Seas and elsewhere," about which he was, in spite of his reluctance, encouraged to share with the public in the form of a "memoir." From there, Pym resisted the calls to write down his narrative both out of embarrassment about the quality of his own writing and his concern that the events, to which he was the only witness, would not be believed. Ultimately, Edgar Allen Poe convinced Pym to orally tell him about his adventures, and fictionalized them under his own name. Readers, however, saw through the subterfuge and believed the events recounted. It was at that Pym decided to write down his own version of events.
So, the correct answer is that Poe's publication of a fictionalized version of Pym (the narrator)'s adventures motivated his telling of events in the given passage.
Compare your answer with the correct one above
Adapted from Hung Lou Meng, Book I; or, The Dream of the Red Chamber: A Chinese Novel by Cao Xueqin, (c.1716–1763) (trans. H. Bencraft Joly, 1892–93)
\[At this point in the novel, Tai-yü has left her father’s house and traveled to go live with her grandmother.\]
Lin Tai-yü had often heard her mother recount how different was her grandmother's house from that of other people's; and having seen for herself how \[extravagant\] were already the attendants of the three grades, (sent to wait upon her,) in attire, in their fare, in all their articles of use, "how much more," she thought to herself, "now that I am going to her home, must I be careful at every step, and circumspect at every moment! Nor must I utter one word too many, nor make one step more than is proper, for fear lest I should be ridiculed by any of them!”
. . .
An entrance hall stood in the center, in the middle of which was a door-screen of Ta Li marble, set in an ebony frame. In the \[courtyard\] were five parlors, the frieze of the ceiling of which was all carved, and the pillars ornamented. In the side-rooms were suspended cages, full of parrots of every color, thrushes, and birds of every description.
Three or four \[waiting maids\] forthwith vied with each other in raising the door curtain, while at the same time was heard some one announce: "Miss Lin has arrived."
No sooner had she entered the room, than she espied two servants supporting a venerable lady, with silver-white hair, coming forward to greet her. Convinced that this lady must be her grandmother, she was about to prostrate herself and pay her obeisance, when she was quickly clasped in the arms of her grandmother, who held her close against her bosom; and as she called her "My liver! My flesh!" (My love! My darling!) she began to sob aloud.
The bystanders too, at once, without one exception, melted into tears; and Tai-yü herself found some difficulty in restraining her sobs. Little by little the whole party succeeded in consoling her, and Tai-yü at length paid her obeisance to her grandmother. Her ladyship thereupon pointed them out one by one to Tai-yü. "This," she said, "is the wife of your uncle, your mother's elder brother; this is the wife of your uncle, her second brother; and this is your eldest sister-in-law Chu, the wife of your senior cousin Chu."
Tai-yü bowed to each one of them with folded arms.
"Ask the young ladies in," dowager lady Chia went on to say. "Tell them a guest from afar has just arrived, one who comes for the first time; and that they may not go to their lessons."
Not long after three nurses and five or six waiting-maids were seen ushering in three young ladies. In their head ornaments, jewelry, and dress, the get-up of the three young ladies was identical.
Tai-yü speedily rose to greet them and to exchange salutations. After they had made each other's acquaintance, they all took a seat, whereupon the servants brought the tea. Their conversation was confined to Tai-yü's mother—how she had fallen ill, what doctors had attended her, what medicines had been given her, and how she had been buried and mourned. Dowager lady Chia was naturally again in great anguish.
"Of all my daughters," she remarked, "your mother was the one I loved best, and now in a twinkle, she has passed away, before me too, and I've not been able to so much as see her face. How can this not make my heart sore-stricken?"
And as she gave vent to these feelings, she took Tai-yü's hand in hers, and again gave way to sobs, and it was only after the members of the family had quickly made use of much exhortation and coaxing that they succeeded, little by little, in stopping her tears.
They all perceived that Tai-yü, despite her youthful years and appearance, was ladylike in her deportment and address, and that though with her delicate figure and countenance, she seemed as if unable to bear the very weight of her clothes, she possessed, however, a certain captivating air. And as they readily noticed the symptoms of a weak constitution, they went on in consequence to make inquiries as to what medicines she ordinarily took, and how it was that her complaint had not been cured.
Hardly had she finished \[replying\], when a sound of laughter was heard from the back courtyard. "Here I am too late!" the voice said, "and not in time to receive the distant visitor!"
"Every one of all these people," reflected Tai-yü, "holds her peace and suppresses the very breath of her mouth; and who, I wonder, is this coming in this reckless and rude manner?"
The attire of this person bore no similarity to that of the young ladies. In all her splendor and luster, she looked like a fairy or a goddess. On her person, she wore a tight-sleeved jacket, of dark red flowered satin, covered with hundreds of butterflies, embroidered in gold, interspersed with flowers. Her stature was elegant; her figure graceful; her powdered face like dawning spring, majestic, yet not haughty.
Tai-yü eagerly rose and greeted her. She was just at a loss how to address her, when all her cousins informed Tai-yü, that this was her sister-in-law Lien.
Tai-yü lost no time in returning her smile and saluting her with all propriety, addressing her as "my sister-in-law." \[Lien\] laid hold of Tai-yü's hand, and minutely scrutinized her, for a while, from head to foot, after which she led her back next to dowager lady Chia, where they both took a seat.
What can we infer from the content and placement of the underlined paragraph in the context of the entire passage?
The underlined paragraph is the second paragraph in the passage. In the paragraph that precedes it, the audience is informed about Tai-yü's concern that she will make some sort of social misstep while living at her grandmother's residence. Then, a paragraph break occurs, and the underlined paragraph begins the next section of the text:
An entrance hall stood in the center, in the middle of which was a door-screen of Ta Li marble, set in an ebony frame. In the \[courtyard\] were five parlors, the frieze of the ceiling of which was all carved, and the pillars ornamented. In the side-rooms were suspended cages, full of parrots of every color, thrushes, and birds of every description.
The underlined paragraph provides visual detail about the setting in which the rest of the passage takes place. It mentions several things that are opulent and we can infer would cost a lot of money: a door-screen made of marble and ebony; many parlors with carved ceilings and ornamented pillars, and pet birds.
Nothing about this description allows us to infer that each resident owns exactly one caged bird. While multiple people seem to live at this location, the birds are described in general terms: we don't learn of an exact number of them that we could associate with an exact number of residents, and nothing is mentioned to make this connection without data. It's also not reasonable to infer that the story's location is one where the weather forces people to remain inside, since we are told that the area includes a "courtyard," which is an outdoor area. We also don't learn anything that would support the idea that Tai-yü's grandmother suddenly became very wealthy. While the descriptions of items we can infer are expensive suggest that she is wealthy at the time the passage's events take place, we don't learn anything about her past, so we can't claim that she suddenly became very wealthy; she may have been wealthy all her life.
The only remaining answer choice is the correct one: "This is likely the first time that this setting has been introduced in the story." The paragraph consists of extensive description of the setting, and this description would not be necessary if the reader were already familiar with the details of the location. Furthermore, we know that this is the first time that Tai-yü is visiting this location, and the passage begins by focusing on her as the main character.
Compare your answer with the correct one above
Adapted from Hung Lou Meng, Book I; or, The Dream of the Red Chamber: A Chinese Novel by Cao Xueqin, (c.1716–1763) (trans. H. Bencraft Joly, 1892–93)
\[At this point in the novel, Tai-yü has left her father’s house and traveled to go live with her grandmother.\]
Lin Tai-yü had often heard her mother recount how different was her grandmother's house from that of other people's; and having seen for herself how \[extravagant\] were already the attendants of the three grades, (sent to wait upon her,) in attire, in their fare, in all their articles of use, "how much more," she thought to herself, "now that I am going to her home, must I be careful at every step, and circumspect at every moment! Nor must I utter one word too many, nor make one step more than is proper, for fear lest I should be ridiculed by any of them!”
. . .
An entrance hall stood in the center, in the middle of which was a door-screen of Ta Li marble, set in an ebony frame. In the \[courtyard\] were five parlors, the frieze of the ceiling of which was all carved, and the pillars ornamented. In the side-rooms were suspended cages, full of parrots of every color, thrushes, and birds of every description.
Three or four \[waiting maids\] forthwith vied with each other in raising the door curtain, while at the same time was heard some one announce: "Miss Lin has arrived."
No sooner had she entered the room, than she espied two servants supporting a venerable lady, with silver-white hair, coming forward to greet her. Convinced that this lady must be her grandmother, she was about to prostrate herself and pay her obeisance, when she was quickly clasped in the arms of her grandmother, who held her close against her bosom; and as she called her "My liver! My flesh!" (My love! My darling!) she began to sob aloud.
The bystanders too, at once, without one exception, melted into tears; and Tai-yü herself found some difficulty in restraining her sobs. Little by little the whole party succeeded in consoling her, and Tai-yü at length paid her obeisance to her grandmother. Her ladyship thereupon pointed them out one by one to Tai-yü. "This," she said, "is the wife of your uncle, your mother's elder brother; this is the wife of your uncle, her second brother; and this is your eldest sister-in-law Chu, the wife of your senior cousin Chu."
Tai-yü bowed to each one of them with folded arms.
"Ask the young ladies in," dowager lady Chia went on to say. "Tell them a guest from afar has just arrived, one who comes for the first time; and that they may not go to their lessons."
Not long after three nurses and five or six waiting-maids were seen ushering in three young ladies. In their head ornaments, jewelry, and dress, the get-up of the three young ladies was identical.
Tai-yü speedily rose to greet them and to exchange salutations. After they had made each other's acquaintance, they all took a seat, whereupon the servants brought the tea. Their conversation was confined to Tai-yü's mother—how she had fallen ill, what doctors had attended her, what medicines had been given her, and how she had been buried and mourned. Dowager lady Chia was naturally again in great anguish.
"Of all my daughters," she remarked, "your mother was the one I loved best, and now in a twinkle, she has passed away, before me too, and I've not been able to so much as see her face. How can this not make my heart sore-stricken?"
And as she gave vent to these feelings, she took Tai-yü's hand in hers, and again gave way to sobs, and it was only after the members of the family had quickly made use of much exhortation and coaxing that they succeeded, little by little, in stopping her tears.
They all perceived that Tai-yü, despite her youthful years and appearance, was ladylike in her deportment and address, and that though with her delicate figure and countenance, she seemed as if unable to bear the very weight of her clothes, she possessed, however, a certain captivating air. And as they readily noticed the symptoms of a weak constitution, they went on in consequence to make inquiries as to what medicines she ordinarily took, and how it was that her complaint had not been cured.
Hardly had she finished \[replying\], when a sound of laughter was heard from the back courtyard. "Here I am too late!" the voice said, "and not in time to receive the distant visitor!"
"Every one of all these people," reflected Tai-yü, "holds her peace and suppresses the very breath of her mouth; and who, I wonder, is this coming in this reckless and rude manner?"
The attire of this person bore no similarity to that of the young ladies. In all her splendor and luster, she looked like a fairy or a goddess. On her person, she wore a tight-sleeved jacket, of dark red flowered satin, covered with hundreds of butterflies, embroidered in gold, interspersed with flowers. Her stature was elegant; her figure graceful; her powdered face like dawning spring, majestic, yet not haughty.
Tai-yü eagerly rose and greeted her. She was just at a loss how to address her, when all her cousins informed Tai-yü, that this was her sister-in-law Lien.
Tai-yü lost no time in returning her smile and saluting her with all propriety, addressing her as "my sister-in-law." \[Lien\] laid hold of Tai-yü's hand, and minutely scrutinized her, for a while, from head to foot, after which she led her back next to dowager lady Chia, where they both took a seat.
The first paragraph has which of the following effects on the rest of the passage?
In the first paragraph, we learn that Tai-yü is expecting her grandmother's house to be very different from any house in which she's lived. Seeing how extravagant her grandmother's attendants are prompts Tai-yü to worry about making a social mistake and embarrassing herself in this new milieu. After this paragraph, there is a paragraph break, and then the rest of the paragraph begins. Tai-yü's grandmother's house is described, and then her entrance is announced.
The first paragraph works in a specific way to influence how readers understand the rest of the material that follows after the paragraph break. It does not "\[emphasize\] how Tai-yü initially assumes that her grandmother's house will be similar to her mother's." We learn that Tai-yü assumes the opposite: that her grandmother's house will be very different from other people's. Furthermore, it does not "\[suggest\] that Tai-yü has never before been in a formal social situation that demands good manners, and that she is not aware that her behavior will be judged." She is very aware that her behavior will be judged, to the point where she is concerned about making a social error. Finally, it does not "\[allow\] the reader to infer that Tai-yü is only pretending to be the granddaughter of the woman she is going to visit and is not actually related to her." Nothing in the passage suggests that this is the case.
The correct answer is that the first paragraph "adds tension by informing the audience that Tai-yü is afraid of embarrassing herself at her grandmother's residence before she arrives there." The placement of the paragraph as the first one in the passage allows the reader to understand how Tai-yü is feeling about traveling to live with her grandmother. This insight into her thoughts and feelings in the first paragraph adds another layer of interpretation to the rest of the passage: the reader understands that as Tai-yü interacts with her grandmother and relatives, she is nervous about embarrassing herself.
Compare your answer with the correct one above
Passage adapted from Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1798)
There passed a weary time. Each throat
Was parched, and glazed each eye.
A weary time! a weary time!
How glazed each weary eye,
When looking westward, I beheld
A something in the sky.
At first it seemed a little speck,
And then it seemed a mist:
It moved and moved, and took at last
A certain shape, I wist.
A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist!
And still it neared and neared:
As if it dodged a water-sprite,
It plunged and tacked and veered.
With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
We could not laugh nor wail;
Through utter drought all dumb we stood!
I bit my arm, I sucked the blood,
And cried, A sail! a sail!
With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
Agape they heard me call:
Gramercy! they for joy did grin,
And all at once their breath drew in,
As they were drinking all.
See! see! (I cried) she tacks no more!
Hither to work us weal;
Without a breeze, without a tide,
She steadies with upright keel!
The western wave was all a-flame
The day was well nigh done!
Almost upon the western wave
Rested the broad bright Sun;
When that strange shape drove suddenly
Betwixt us and the Sun.
And straight the Sun was flecked with bars,
(Heaven's Mother send us grace!)
As if through a dungeon-grate he peered,
With broad and burning face.
Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)
How fast she nears and nears!
Are those her sails that glance in the Sun,
Like restless gossameres!
Are those her ribs through which the Sun
Did peer, as through a grate?
And is that Woman all her crew?
Is that a DEATH? and are there two?
Is DEATH that woman's mate?
Her lips were red, her looks were free,
Her locks were yellow as gold:
Her skin was as white as leprosy,
The Night-Mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she,
Who thicks man's blood with cold.
The naked hulk alongside came,
And the twain were casting dice;
"The game is done! I've won! I've won!"
Quoth she, and whistles thrice.
The Sun's rim dips; the stars rush out:
At one stride comes the dark;
With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea.
Off shot the spectre-bark.
Introducing the figure of "LIFE IN DEATH" as a far-off "speck" the author _____________.
The given in this question is that the figure of "LIFE IN DEATH" is first identified as a far-off "speck," before gradually coming into the full view of the crew. Before we jump too far into this question, let's make sure we understand all of the terms used in our potential answer choices.
To begin a narrative "in media res" is to start that narrative in the middle of the action, with no exposition. An example of an in media res opening is: "A shot rang out. The door slammed. A girl screamed." We don't know which girl, nor even which door, but already we've heard a shot!
Dramatic irony occurs when the audience is aware of something that the characters are not. Thus, when we watch the characters acting obliviously to knowledge we, the audience, have it creates dramatic irony. For instance, if one knows that Romeo and Juliet are doomed to die at the end of the play, all of their actions throughout the play create dramatic irony, as they are acting without that knowledge.
Narrative tension can be roughly defined as suspense. It is tension created by the withholding of information from the audience.
The passage does NOT begin in media res, as the very first thing that happens is waiting ("pass\[ing\] a weary time")! Nor is dramatic irony created, as the audience is equally in the dark about what the far-off speck is as are the characters. So, the question we must settle now is simple. Does starting the figure of "LIFE IN DEATH" as an obscure far-away object that must be guessed at before finally being revealed create narrative tension, or not?
The answer is that it does. Because the object is obscure to the narrator, the other characters, and the audience, a feeling of suspense is created as we, and the characters, must guess as the object slowly approaches, rather than knowing exactly what the object is the whole time.
Compare your answer with the correct one above
Adapted from Edgar Allen Poe’s The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym (1838)
Upon my return to the United States a few months ago, after the extraordinary series of adventure in the South Seas and elsewhere, of which an account is given in the following pages, accident threw me into the society of several gentlemen in Richmond, Va., who felt deep interest in all matters relating to the regions I had visited, and who were constantly urging it upon me, as a duty, to give my narrative to the public. I had several reasons, however, for declining to do so, some of which were of a nature altogether private, and concern no person but myself; others not so much so.
One consideration which deterred me was that, having kept no journal during a greater portion of the time in which I was absent, I feared I should not be able to write, from mere memory, a statement so minute and connected as to have the appearance of that truth it would really possess, barring only the natural and unavoidable exaggeration to which all of us are prone when detailing events which have had powerful influence in exciting the imaginative faculties.
Another reason was, that the incidents to be narrated were of a nature so positively marvellous that, unsupported as my assertions must necessarily be (except by the evidence of a single individual, and he a half-breed Indian), I could only hope for belief among my family, and those of my friends who have had reason, through life, to put faith in my veracity-the probability being that the public at large would regard what I should put forth as merely an impudent and ingenious fiction. A distrust in my own abilities as a writer was, nevertheless, one of the principal causes which prevented me from complying with the suggestions of my advisers.
Among those gentlemen in Virginia who expressed the greatest interest in my statement, more particularly in regard to that portion of it which related to the Antarctic Ocean, was Mr. Poe, lately editor of the "Southern Literary Messenger," a monthly magazine, published by Mr. Thomas W. White, in the city of Richmond. He strongly advised me, among others, to prepare at once a full account of what I had seen and undergone, and trust to the shrewdness and common-sense of the public-insisting, with great plausibility, that however roughly, as regards mere authorship, my book should be got up, its very uncouthness, if there were any, would give it all the better chance of being received as truth.
Notwithstanding this representation, I did not make up my mind to do as he suggested. He afterward proposed (finding that I would not stir in the matter) that I should allow him to draw up, in his own words, a narrative of the earlier portion of my adventures, from facts afforded by myself, publishing it in the "Southern Messenger" under the garb of fiction. To this, perceiving no objection, I consented, stipulating only that my real name should be retained. Two numbers of the pretended fiction appeared, consequently, in the "Messenger" for January and February (1837), and, in order that it might certainly be regarded as fiction, the name of Mr. Poe was affixed to the articles in the table of contents of the magazine.
The manner in which this ruse was received has induced me at length to undertake a regular compilation and publication of the adventures in question; for I found that, in spite of the air of fable which had been so ingeniously thrown around that portion of my statement which appeared in the "Messenger" (without altering or distorting a single fact), the public were still not at all disposed to receive it as fable, and several letters were sent to Mr. P.'s address, distinctly expressing a conviction to the contrary. I thence concluded that the facts of my narrative would prove of such a nature as to carry with them sufficient evidence of their own authenticity, and that I had consequently little to fear on the score of popular incredulity.
This exposé being made, it will be seen at once how much of what follows I claim to be my own writing; and it will also be understood that no fact is misrepresented in the first few pages which were written by Mr. Poe. Even to those readers who have not seen the "Messenger," it will be unnecessary to point out where his portion ends and my own commences; the difference in point of style will be readily perceived.
-A.G Pym
What event inspired the narrator to write the passage?
This question asks you to accurately understand the order and causal relationship of events described in the passage. Here, you need to display an understanding of the basic chronology of the events described in addition to a nuanced ability to distinguish how this chronology mutually influences the actions of the narrator and other characters.
The first step to answering this question is also the exact same question you should, and naturally will, ask yourself when encountering any text: What happened? The basic events of this story must be ascertained before you can move on to assessing in what order they happened and which events influenced which other events.
The first thing that happened was that the narrator, Arthur Pym, had an "extraordinary series of adventures in the South Seas and elsewhere," about which he was, in spite of his reluctance, encouraged to share with the public in the form of a "memoir." From there, Pym resisted the calls to write down his narrative both out of embarrassment about the quality of his own writing and his concern that the events, to which he was the only witness, would not be believed. Ultimately, Edgar Allen Poe convinced Pym to orally tell him about his adventures, and fictionalized them under his own name. Readers, however, saw through the subterfuge and believed the events recounted. It was at that Pym decided to write down his own version of events.
So, the correct answer is that Poe's publication of a fictionalized version of Pym (the narrator)'s adventures motivated his telling of events in the given passage.
Compare your answer with the correct one above
Adapted from Hung Lou Meng, Book I; or, The Dream of the Red Chamber: A Chinese Novel by Cao Xueqin, (c.1716–1763) (trans. H. Bencraft Joly, 1892–93)
\[At this point in the novel, Tai-yü has left her father’s house and traveled to go live with her grandmother.\]
Lin Tai-yü had often heard her mother recount how different was her grandmother's house from that of other people's; and having seen for herself how \[extravagant\] were already the attendants of the three grades, (sent to wait upon her,) in attire, in their fare, in all their articles of use, "how much more," she thought to herself, "now that I am going to her home, must I be careful at every step, and circumspect at every moment! Nor must I utter one word too many, nor make one step more than is proper, for fear lest I should be ridiculed by any of them!”
. . .
An entrance hall stood in the center, in the middle of which was a door-screen of Ta Li marble, set in an ebony frame. In the \[courtyard\] were five parlors, the frieze of the ceiling of which was all carved, and the pillars ornamented. In the side-rooms were suspended cages, full of parrots of every color, thrushes, and birds of every description.
Three or four \[waiting maids\] forthwith vied with each other in raising the door curtain, while at the same time was heard some one announce: "Miss Lin has arrived."
No sooner had she entered the room, than she espied two servants supporting a venerable lady, with silver-white hair, coming forward to greet her. Convinced that this lady must be her grandmother, she was about to prostrate herself and pay her obeisance, when she was quickly clasped in the arms of her grandmother, who held her close against her bosom; and as she called her "My liver! My flesh!" (My love! My darling!) she began to sob aloud.
The bystanders too, at once, without one exception, melted into tears; and Tai-yü herself found some difficulty in restraining her sobs. Little by little the whole party succeeded in consoling her, and Tai-yü at length paid her obeisance to her grandmother. Her ladyship thereupon pointed them out one by one to Tai-yü. "This," she said, "is the wife of your uncle, your mother's elder brother; this is the wife of your uncle, her second brother; and this is your eldest sister-in-law Chu, the wife of your senior cousin Chu."
Tai-yü bowed to each one of them with folded arms.
"Ask the young ladies in," dowager lady Chia went on to say. "Tell them a guest from afar has just arrived, one who comes for the first time; and that they may not go to their lessons."
Not long after three nurses and five or six waiting-maids were seen ushering in three young ladies. In their head ornaments, jewelry, and dress, the get-up of the three young ladies was identical.
Tai-yü speedily rose to greet them and to exchange salutations. After they had made each other's acquaintance, they all took a seat, whereupon the servants brought the tea. Their conversation was confined to Tai-yü's mother—how she had fallen ill, what doctors had attended her, what medicines had been given her, and how she had been buried and mourned. Dowager lady Chia was naturally again in great anguish.
"Of all my daughters," she remarked, "your mother was the one I loved best, and now in a twinkle, she has passed away, before me too, and I've not been able to so much as see her face. How can this not make my heart sore-stricken?"
And as she gave vent to these feelings, she took Tai-yü's hand in hers, and again gave way to sobs, and it was only after the members of the family had quickly made use of much exhortation and coaxing that they succeeded, little by little, in stopping her tears.
They all perceived that Tai-yü, despite her youthful years and appearance, was ladylike in her deportment and address, and that though with her delicate figure and countenance, she seemed as if unable to bear the very weight of her clothes, she possessed, however, a certain captivating air. And as they readily noticed the symptoms of a weak constitution, they went on in consequence to make inquiries as to what medicines she ordinarily took, and how it was that her complaint had not been cured.
Hardly had she finished \[replying\], when a sound of laughter was heard from the back courtyard. "Here I am too late!" the voice said, "and not in time to receive the distant visitor!"
"Every one of all these people," reflected Tai-yü, "holds her peace and suppresses the very breath of her mouth; and who, I wonder, is this coming in this reckless and rude manner?"
The attire of this person bore no similarity to that of the young ladies. In all her splendor and luster, she looked like a fairy or a goddess. On her person, she wore a tight-sleeved jacket, of dark red flowered satin, covered with hundreds of butterflies, embroidered in gold, interspersed with flowers. Her stature was elegant; her figure graceful; her powdered face like dawning spring, majestic, yet not haughty.
Tai-yü eagerly rose and greeted her. She was just at a loss how to address her, when all her cousins informed Tai-yü, that this was her sister-in-law Lien.
Tai-yü lost no time in returning her smile and saluting her with all propriety, addressing her as "my sister-in-law." \[Lien\] laid hold of Tai-yü's hand, and minutely scrutinized her, for a while, from head to foot, after which she led her back next to dowager lady Chia, where they both took a seat.
What can we infer from the content and placement of the underlined paragraph in the context of the entire passage?
The underlined paragraph is the second paragraph in the passage. In the paragraph that precedes it, the audience is informed about Tai-yü's concern that she will make some sort of social misstep while living at her grandmother's residence. Then, a paragraph break occurs, and the underlined paragraph begins the next section of the text:
An entrance hall stood in the center, in the middle of which was a door-screen of Ta Li marble, set in an ebony frame. In the \[courtyard\] were five parlors, the frieze of the ceiling of which was all carved, and the pillars ornamented. In the side-rooms were suspended cages, full of parrots of every color, thrushes, and birds of every description.
The underlined paragraph provides visual detail about the setting in which the rest of the passage takes place. It mentions several things that are opulent and we can infer would cost a lot of money: a door-screen made of marble and ebony; many parlors with carved ceilings and ornamented pillars, and pet birds.
Nothing about this description allows us to infer that each resident owns exactly one caged bird. While multiple people seem to live at this location, the birds are described in general terms: we don't learn of an exact number of them that we could associate with an exact number of residents, and nothing is mentioned to make this connection without data. It's also not reasonable to infer that the story's location is one where the weather forces people to remain inside, since we are told that the area includes a "courtyard," which is an outdoor area. We also don't learn anything that would support the idea that Tai-yü's grandmother suddenly became very wealthy. While the descriptions of items we can infer are expensive suggest that she is wealthy at the time the passage's events take place, we don't learn anything about her past, so we can't claim that she suddenly became very wealthy; she may have been wealthy all her life.
The only remaining answer choice is the correct one: "This is likely the first time that this setting has been introduced in the story." The paragraph consists of extensive description of the setting, and this description would not be necessary if the reader were already familiar with the details of the location. Furthermore, we know that this is the first time that Tai-yü is visiting this location, and the passage begins by focusing on her as the main character.
Compare your answer with the correct one above
Adapted from Hung Lou Meng, Book I; or, The Dream of the Red Chamber: A Chinese Novel by Cao Xueqin, (c.1716–1763) (trans. H. Bencraft Joly, 1892–93)
\[At this point in the novel, Tai-yü has left her father’s house and traveled to go live with her grandmother.\]
Lin Tai-yü had often heard her mother recount how different was her grandmother's house from that of other people's; and having seen for herself how \[extravagant\] were already the attendants of the three grades, (sent to wait upon her,) in attire, in their fare, in all their articles of use, "how much more," she thought to herself, "now that I am going to her home, must I be careful at every step, and circumspect at every moment! Nor must I utter one word too many, nor make one step more than is proper, for fear lest I should be ridiculed by any of them!”
. . .
An entrance hall stood in the center, in the middle of which was a door-screen of Ta Li marble, set in an ebony frame. In the \[courtyard\] were five parlors, the frieze of the ceiling of which was all carved, and the pillars ornamented. In the side-rooms were suspended cages, full of parrots of every color, thrushes, and birds of every description.
Three or four \[waiting maids\] forthwith vied with each other in raising the door curtain, while at the same time was heard some one announce: "Miss Lin has arrived."
No sooner had she entered the room, than she espied two servants supporting a venerable lady, with silver-white hair, coming forward to greet her. Convinced that this lady must be her grandmother, she was about to prostrate herself and pay her obeisance, when she was quickly clasped in the arms of her grandmother, who held her close against her bosom; and as she called her "My liver! My flesh!" (My love! My darling!) she began to sob aloud.
The bystanders too, at once, without one exception, melted into tears; and Tai-yü herself found some difficulty in restraining her sobs. Little by little the whole party succeeded in consoling her, and Tai-yü at length paid her obeisance to her grandmother. Her ladyship thereupon pointed them out one by one to Tai-yü. "This," she said, "is the wife of your uncle, your mother's elder brother; this is the wife of your uncle, her second brother; and this is your eldest sister-in-law Chu, the wife of your senior cousin Chu."
Tai-yü bowed to each one of them with folded arms.
"Ask the young ladies in," dowager lady Chia went on to say. "Tell them a guest from afar has just arrived, one who comes for the first time; and that they may not go to their lessons."
Not long after three nurses and five or six waiting-maids were seen ushering in three young ladies. In their head ornaments, jewelry, and dress, the get-up of the three young ladies was identical.
Tai-yü speedily rose to greet them and to exchange salutations. After they had made each other's acquaintance, they all took a seat, whereupon the servants brought the tea. Their conversation was confined to Tai-yü's mother—how she had fallen ill, what doctors had attended her, what medicines had been given her, and how she had been buried and mourned. Dowager lady Chia was naturally again in great anguish.
"Of all my daughters," she remarked, "your mother was the one I loved best, and now in a twinkle, she has passed away, before me too, and I've not been able to so much as see her face. How can this not make my heart sore-stricken?"
And as she gave vent to these feelings, she took Tai-yü's hand in hers, and again gave way to sobs, and it was only after the members of the family had quickly made use of much exhortation and coaxing that they succeeded, little by little, in stopping her tears.
They all perceived that Tai-yü, despite her youthful years and appearance, was ladylike in her deportment and address, and that though with her delicate figure and countenance, she seemed as if unable to bear the very weight of her clothes, she possessed, however, a certain captivating air. And as they readily noticed the symptoms of a weak constitution, they went on in consequence to make inquiries as to what medicines she ordinarily took, and how it was that her complaint had not been cured.
Hardly had she finished \[replying\], when a sound of laughter was heard from the back courtyard. "Here I am too late!" the voice said, "and not in time to receive the distant visitor!"
"Every one of all these people," reflected Tai-yü, "holds her peace and suppresses the very breath of her mouth; and who, I wonder, is this coming in this reckless and rude manner?"
The attire of this person bore no similarity to that of the young ladies. In all her splendor and luster, she looked like a fairy or a goddess. On her person, she wore a tight-sleeved jacket, of dark red flowered satin, covered with hundreds of butterflies, embroidered in gold, interspersed with flowers. Her stature was elegant; her figure graceful; her powdered face like dawning spring, majestic, yet not haughty.
Tai-yü eagerly rose and greeted her. She was just at a loss how to address her, when all her cousins informed Tai-yü, that this was her sister-in-law Lien.
Tai-yü lost no time in returning her smile and saluting her with all propriety, addressing her as "my sister-in-law." \[Lien\] laid hold of Tai-yü's hand, and minutely scrutinized her, for a while, from head to foot, after which she led her back next to dowager lady Chia, where they both took a seat.
The first paragraph has which of the following effects on the rest of the passage?
In the first paragraph, we learn that Tai-yü is expecting her grandmother's house to be very different from any house in which she's lived. Seeing how extravagant her grandmother's attendants are prompts Tai-yü to worry about making a social mistake and embarrassing herself in this new milieu. After this paragraph, there is a paragraph break, and then the rest of the paragraph begins. Tai-yü's grandmother's house is described, and then her entrance is announced.
The first paragraph works in a specific way to influence how readers understand the rest of the material that follows after the paragraph break. It does not "\[emphasize\] how Tai-yü initially assumes that her grandmother's house will be similar to her mother's." We learn that Tai-yü assumes the opposite: that her grandmother's house will be very different from other people's. Furthermore, it does not "\[suggest\] that Tai-yü has never before been in a formal social situation that demands good manners, and that she is not aware that her behavior will be judged." She is very aware that her behavior will be judged, to the point where she is concerned about making a social error. Finally, it does not "\[allow\] the reader to infer that Tai-yü is only pretending to be the granddaughter of the woman she is going to visit and is not actually related to her." Nothing in the passage suggests that this is the case.
The correct answer is that the first paragraph "adds tension by informing the audience that Tai-yü is afraid of embarrassing herself at her grandmother's residence before she arrives there." The placement of the paragraph as the first one in the passage allows the reader to understand how Tai-yü is feeling about traveling to live with her grandmother. This insight into her thoughts and feelings in the first paragraph adds another layer of interpretation to the rest of the passage: the reader understands that as Tai-yü interacts with her grandmother and relatives, she is nervous about embarrassing herself.
Compare your answer with the correct one above
Passage adapted from Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1798)
There passed a weary time. Each throat
Was parched, and glazed each eye.
A weary time! a weary time!
How glazed each weary eye,
When looking westward, I beheld
A something in the sky.
At first it seemed a little speck,
And then it seemed a mist:
It moved and moved, and took at last
A certain shape, I wist.
A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist!
And still it neared and neared:
As if it dodged a water-sprite,
It plunged and tacked and veered.
With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
We could not laugh nor wail;
Through utter drought all dumb we stood!
I bit my arm, I sucked the blood,
And cried, A sail! a sail!
With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
Agape they heard me call:
Gramercy! they for joy did grin,
And all at once their breath drew in,
As they were drinking all.
See! see! (I cried) she tacks no more!
Hither to work us weal;
Without a breeze, without a tide,
She steadies with upright keel!
The western wave was all a-flame
The day was well nigh done!
Almost upon the western wave
Rested the broad bright Sun;
When that strange shape drove suddenly
Betwixt us and the Sun.
And straight the Sun was flecked with bars,
(Heaven's Mother send us grace!)
As if through a dungeon-grate he peered,
With broad and burning face.
Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)
How fast she nears and nears!
Are those her sails that glance in the Sun,
Like restless gossameres!
Are those her ribs through which the Sun
Did peer, as through a grate?
And is that Woman all her crew?
Is that a DEATH? and are there two?
Is DEATH that woman's mate?
Her lips were red, her looks were free,
Her locks were yellow as gold:
Her skin was as white as leprosy,
The Night-Mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she,
Who thicks man's blood with cold.
The naked hulk alongside came,
And the twain were casting dice;
"The game is done! I've won! I've won!"
Quoth she, and whistles thrice.
The Sun's rim dips; the stars rush out:
At one stride comes the dark;
With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea.
Off shot the spectre-bark.
Introducing the figure of "LIFE IN DEATH" as a far-off "speck" the author _____________.
The given in this question is that the figure of "LIFE IN DEATH" is first identified as a far-off "speck," before gradually coming into the full view of the crew. Before we jump too far into this question, let's make sure we understand all of the terms used in our potential answer choices.
To begin a narrative "in media res" is to start that narrative in the middle of the action, with no exposition. An example of an in media res opening is: "A shot rang out. The door slammed. A girl screamed." We don't know which girl, nor even which door, but already we've heard a shot!
Dramatic irony occurs when the audience is aware of something that the characters are not. Thus, when we watch the characters acting obliviously to knowledge we, the audience, have it creates dramatic irony. For instance, if one knows that Romeo and Juliet are doomed to die at the end of the play, all of their actions throughout the play create dramatic irony, as they are acting without that knowledge.
Narrative tension can be roughly defined as suspense. It is tension created by the withholding of information from the audience.
The passage does NOT begin in media res, as the very first thing that happens is waiting ("pass\[ing\] a weary time")! Nor is dramatic irony created, as the audience is equally in the dark about what the far-off speck is as are the characters. So, the question we must settle now is simple. Does starting the figure of "LIFE IN DEATH" as an obscure far-away object that must be guessed at before finally being revealed create narrative tension, or not?
The answer is that it does. Because the object is obscure to the narrator, the other characters, and the audience, a feeling of suspense is created as we, and the characters, must guess as the object slowly approaches, rather than knowing exactly what the object is the whole time.
Compare your answer with the correct one above
Adapted from Edgar Allen Poe’s The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym (1838)
Upon my return to the United States a few months ago, after the extraordinary series of adventure in the South Seas and elsewhere, of which an account is given in the following pages, accident threw me into the society of several gentlemen in Richmond, Va., who felt deep interest in all matters relating to the regions I had visited, and who were constantly urging it upon me, as a duty, to give my narrative to the public. I had several reasons, however, for declining to do so, some of which were of a nature altogether private, and concern no person but myself; others not so much so.
One consideration which deterred me was that, having kept no journal during a greater portion of the time in which I was absent, I feared I should not be able to write, from mere memory, a statement so minute and connected as to have the appearance of that truth it would really possess, barring only the natural and unavoidable exaggeration to which all of us are prone when detailing events which have had powerful influence in exciting the imaginative faculties.
Another reason was, that the incidents to be narrated were of a nature so positively marvellous that, unsupported as my assertions must necessarily be (except by the evidence of a single individual, and he a half-breed Indian), I could only hope for belief among my family, and those of my friends who have had reason, through life, to put faith in my veracity-the probability being that the public at large would regard what I should put forth as merely an impudent and ingenious fiction. A distrust in my own abilities as a writer was, nevertheless, one of the principal causes which prevented me from complying with the suggestions of my advisers.
Among those gentlemen in Virginia who expressed the greatest interest in my statement, more particularly in regard to that portion of it which related to the Antarctic Ocean, was Mr. Poe, lately editor of the "Southern Literary Messenger," a monthly magazine, published by Mr. Thomas W. White, in the city of Richmond. He strongly advised me, among others, to prepare at once a full account of what I had seen and undergone, and trust to the shrewdness and common-sense of the public-insisting, with great plausibility, that however roughly, as regards mere authorship, my book should be got up, its very uncouthness, if there were any, would give it all the better chance of being received as truth.
Notwithstanding this representation, I did not make up my mind to do as he suggested. He afterward proposed (finding that I would not stir in the matter) that I should allow him to draw up, in his own words, a narrative of the earlier portion of my adventures, from facts afforded by myself, publishing it in the "Southern Messenger" under the garb of fiction. To this, perceiving no objection, I consented, stipulating only that my real name should be retained. Two numbers of the pretended fiction appeared, consequently, in the "Messenger" for January and February (1837), and, in order that it might certainly be regarded as fiction, the name of Mr. Poe was affixed to the articles in the table of contents of the magazine.
The manner in which this ruse was received has induced me at length to undertake a regular compilation and publication of the adventures in question; for I found that, in spite of the air of fable which had been so ingeniously thrown around that portion of my statement which appeared in the "Messenger" (without altering or distorting a single fact), the public were still not at all disposed to receive it as fable, and several letters were sent to Mr. P.'s address, distinctly expressing a conviction to the contrary. I thence concluded that the facts of my narrative would prove of such a nature as to carry with them sufficient evidence of their own authenticity, and that I had consequently little to fear on the score of popular incredulity.
This exposé being made, it will be seen at once how much of what follows I claim to be my own writing; and it will also be understood that no fact is misrepresented in the first few pages which were written by Mr. Poe. Even to those readers who have not seen the "Messenger," it will be unnecessary to point out where his portion ends and my own commences; the difference in point of style will be readily perceived.
-A.G Pym
What event inspired the narrator to write the passage?
This question asks you to accurately understand the order and causal relationship of events described in the passage. Here, you need to display an understanding of the basic chronology of the events described in addition to a nuanced ability to distinguish how this chronology mutually influences the actions of the narrator and other characters.
The first step to answering this question is also the exact same question you should, and naturally will, ask yourself when encountering any text: What happened? The basic events of this story must be ascertained before you can move on to assessing in what order they happened and which events influenced which other events.
The first thing that happened was that the narrator, Arthur Pym, had an "extraordinary series of adventures in the South Seas and elsewhere," about which he was, in spite of his reluctance, encouraged to share with the public in the form of a "memoir." From there, Pym resisted the calls to write down his narrative both out of embarrassment about the quality of his own writing and his concern that the events, to which he was the only witness, would not be believed. Ultimately, Edgar Allen Poe convinced Pym to orally tell him about his adventures, and fictionalized them under his own name. Readers, however, saw through the subterfuge and believed the events recounted. It was at that Pym decided to write down his own version of events.
So, the correct answer is that Poe's publication of a fictionalized version of Pym (the narrator)'s adventures motivated his telling of events in the given passage.
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