四級(jí)系統(tǒng)精講之閱讀理解2長篇

B 上次過Directions:Inthissection,youaregoingtoreadapassagewithtenstatementsattachedtoit.Eachstatementcontainsinformationgiveninoneoftheparagraphs.Identifytheparagraphfromwhichtheinformationisderived.Youmaychooseaparagraphmorethanonce.EachparagraphismarkedwithaletterAnswerthequestionsbymarkingthecorrespondingletteronAnswerSheet2.Questions46to55arebasedonthefollowingThePerfectLookingbackontoomanyyearsofeducation,Icanidentifyonetrulyimpossibleteacher.Shecaredaboutme,andmyinlectuallife,evenwhenIdidn’t.Herexpectationswerehigh—impossiblyso.ShewasanEnglishteacher.Shewasalsomymother.Whengoodstudentsturninanessay,theydreamoftheirinstructorreturningittotheminexactlythesamecondition,saveforasinglewordaddedinthemarginofthefinalpage:“Flawless.”Thisdreamcametrueformeoneafternoonintheninthgrade.Ofcourse,Ihadheardthatgeniuscouldshowitselfatanearlyage,soIwasonlyslightlytakenabackthatIhadachievedperfectionatthetenderageof14.Obviously,Ididwhatanyprofessionalwriterwoulddo;Ihurriedofftospreadthegoodnews.Ididn’tgetveryfar.Thefirst Itoldwasmymother.Mymother,whoisjustshyoffivefeettall,isnormallyincrediblysoft-spoken,butontherareoccasionwhenshegotangry,shewasterrifying.Iamnotsureifshewasmoreupsetbymyhubris(得意忘形)orbythefactthatmyEnglishteacherhadletmyegogetsooutofhand.Inanyeventmymotherandherredpenshowedmehowdeeplyflawedaflawlessessaycouldbe.Atthetime,Iamsureshethoughtshewasteachingmeaboutmechanics,transitions(過渡),structure,styleandvoice.ButwhatIlearned,andwhatstuckwithmethroughmytimeteachingwritingatHarvard,wasadeeperlessonaboutthenatureofcreativecriticism.Firstoff,ithurts.Genuinecriticism,thetypethatleavesalastingmarkonyouasawriter,alsoleavesanexistentialimprint(印記)onyouasa .Ihaveheardpeoplesaythatawritershouldnevertakecriticismally.Isaythatweshouldneverlistentothesepeople.Criticism,atitsbest,isdeeplyal,andgetstotheheartofwhywewritethewaywedo.Theintimatenatureofgenuinecriticismimpliessomethingaboutwhoisabletogiveit,namely,someonewhoknowsyouwellenoughtoshowyouhowyourmentallifeisgettinginthewayofgoodwriting.Conveniently,theyarealsothepeoplewhocareenoughtoseeyouthroughthispainfulrealization.Formeittooktheformofmyfirst,andIhopeonly,encounterwithwriter’sblock—Iwasnotabletoproduceanythingforthreeyears.FranzKafkaoncesaid:“Writingisuttersolitude(獨(dú)處),thedescentintothecoldabyss(深淵)ofoneself.”Mymother’scriticismhadshownmethatKafkaisrightaboutthecoldabyss,andwhenyoumaketheintrospective(內(nèi)省的)descentthatwritingrequiresyouarenotalwayspleasedbywhatyoufind.But,intheyearsthatfollowed,hersustainedtutoringsuggestedthatKafkamightbewrongaboutthesolitude.Iwasluckyenoughtofindacriticandteacherwhowaswillingtomakethejourneyofwritingwithme.“Itisathingofnogreatdifficulty,”accordingtoPlutarch,toraiseobjectionsagainstanotherman’sspeech,itisaveryeasymatter;buttoproduceabetterinitsceisaworkextremelytroublesome.”IamsureIwroteessaysinthelateryearsofhighschoolwithoutmymother’sguidance,butIcan’trecallthem.WhatIremember,however,ishowshetookupthe“extremelytroublesome”workofongoingcriticism.TherearetwowaystointerpretPlutarchwhenhesuggeststhatacriticshouldbeabletoproduce“abetterinitsce.”Inastraightforwardsense,hecouldmeanthatacriticmustbemoretalentedthantheshecritiques(評論).Mymotherwaswellcoveredonthiscount.ButperhapsPlutarchissuggestingsomethingslightlydifferent,somethingabitclosertoMarcusCicero’sclaimthatoneshould“criticizebycreation,notbyfindingfault.”Genuinecriticismcreatesapreciousopeningforanauthorto ebetteronhisownterms—aprocessthatisoftenextremelypainful,butalsoalmostalwaysmeaningful.Mymothersaidshewouldhelpmewithmywriting,butfirstIhadtohelpmyself.Foreachassignment,IwastowritethebestessayIcould.Realcriticismisnotmeanttofindobviousmistakes,soifshefoundany—thetypeIcouldhavefoundonmyown—Ihadtostartfromscratch.Fromscratch.Oncetheessaywas“flawless,”shewouldtakeaneveningtowalkmethroughmyerrors.Thatwaswhentruecriticism,thetypethatchangedmeasa ,began.ShecriticizedmewhenIincludedlittle-knownreferencesandprofessionaljargon(行話).Shehadnopatienceforbrilliantbutirrelevantfiguresofspeech.“Writerscan’tbluff(虛張聲勢)theirwaythroughignorance.”Thatwasnewstome—Iwouldneedtofindanotherwaytostructuremydailyexistence.Shetrimmedbackmyflowerylanguage,drewlinesthroughmyexclamationmarksandarguedforthevalueofrestraintinexpression.“John,”shealmostwhispered.Ileanedintohearher:“Ican’thearyouwhenyoushoutatme.”SoIstoppedshoutingandbluffing,andslowlymywritingimproved.SomewherealongthewayIsetasidemyhopesofwritingthatflawlessessay.ButperhapsImissedsomethingimportantinmymother’slessonsaboutcreativityandperfection.Perhapsthepointofwritingtheflawlessessaywasnottogiveup,buttoneverwillinglyfinish.Whitmanrepeatedlyreworked“SongofMyself”between1855and1891.Repeatedly.Wedoourabsolutebestwithapieceofwriting,andcomeascloseaswecantotheideal.And,forthetimebeing,wesettle.Incritique,however,wearedtodepart,togiveuptheperfectionwethoughtwehadachievedforthechanceofbeingevenalittlebitbetter.ThisisthelessonItookfrommymother:Ifperfectionwer