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复旦大学:《英美短篇小说 British and American Short Stories》期末样卷_2012-2013第一学期短篇小说A卷(答案)

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复旦大学2012~2013学年第一学期期末考试试卷A卷 (附参考答案) 课程名称:英美短篇小说课程代码:FORE130205.01 开课院系:外文学院英文系 学生姓名: 学号: 专业 题目 I II III IV VI VII VIII IX X总分 得分 (Please write your answers on the answer sheet) 1. Briefly define TwO of the following terms. 30%) 1. Magic realism 2. Stream of consciousness 3. Point of view 4. Story time and narrative time Magic realism, a kind of modern fiction in which fabulous and fantastical events are included in a narrative that otherwise maintains the reliable tone of objective realistic report. The term was once applied to a trend in German fiction of the early 1950s, but is now associated chiefly with certain leading novelists of Central and South America, notably Miguel Angel Asturias, Alejo Carpentier, and Gabriel Garcia Marquez. The term has also been extended to works from very different cultures, designating a tendency o the modern novel to reach beyond the conf ines of realism and draw upon the energies of fable, folktale and myth while retaining a strong contemporary social relevance Stream of consciousness, the continuous flow of sense-perceptions, thoughts, feelings, and memories in the human mind or a literary method of representing such a blend ing of mental processes in fictional characters, usually in an unpunctuated or d isjointed form of interior monologue. The term is often used as a synonym for interior monologue, but they can also be distinguished in two ways In the first(psychological) sense, the stream of consciousness is the subject-matter while interior monologue is the technique for presenting it. In the second(literary)sense, stream of consciousness is a special style of interior monologue: while an interior monologue always presents a characters thoughts directly, without the apparent intervention of a summarizing and selecting narrator, it does not necessarily mingle them with impressions and perceptions, nor does it necessarily violate the norms of grammar, syntax, and logic; but the stream-of-consciousness technique also does one or both of these things. An important

1 复旦大学 2012~2013 学年第一学期期末考试试卷 A 卷 (附参考答案) 课程名称: 英美短篇小说 课程代码:FORE.130205.01__ 开课院系:外文学院英文系 学生姓名: 学号: 专业: 题 目 I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X 总 分 得 分 (Please write your answers on the answer sheet) 1. Briefly define TWO of the following terms. (30%) 1. Magic realism 2. Stream of consciousness 3. Point of view 4. Story time and narrative time Magic realism, a kind of modern fiction in which fabulous and fantastical events are included in a narrative that otherwise maintains the ‘reliable’ tone of objective realistic report. The term was once applied to a trend in German fiction of the early 1950s, but is now associated chiefly with certain leading novelists of Central and South America, notably Miguel Angel Asturias, Alejo Carpentier, and Gabriel García Márquez. The term has also been extended to works from very different cultures, designating a tendency of the modern novel to reach beyond the confines of realism and draw upon the energies of fable, folktale and myth while retaining a strong contemporary social relevance. Stream of consciousness, the continuous flow of sense-perceptions, thoughts, feelings, and memories in the human mind; or a literary method of representing such a blending of mental processes in fictional characters, usually in an unpunctuated or disjointed form of interior monologue. The term is often used as a synonym for interior monologue, but they can also be distinguished, in two ways. In the first (psychological) sense, the stream of consciousness is the subject-matter while interior monologue is the technique for presenting it. In the second (literary) sense, stream of consciousness is a special style of interior monologue: while an interior monologue always presents a character’s thoughts ‘directly’, without the apparent intervention of a summarizing and selecting narrator, it does not necessarily mingle them with impressions and perceptions, nor does it necessarily violate the norms of grammar, syntax, and logic; but the stream-of-consciousness technique also does one or both of these things. An important

device of modernist fiction and its later imitators, the technique was pioneered by Dorothy Richardson in Pilgrimage(1915-35)and by james Joyce in Ulysses(1922), and further developed by Virginia Woolf in Mrs Dalloway(1925)and William Faulkner in The Sound and the Fury (1928) Point of view, the position or vantage-point from which the events of a story seem to be observed and presented to us the chief distinction usually made between points of view is that between third-person narratives and first-person narratives. a third-person narrator may be omniscient, and therefore show an unrestricted knowledge of the storys events from outside or 'above them; but another kind of third-person narrator may confine our knowledge of events to whatever is observed by a single character or small group of characters, this method being known as limited point of view. A first-person narrator's point of view will normally be restricted to his or her partial knowledge and experience and therefore will not give us access to other characters hidden thoughts many modern authors have also used 'multiple point of view, in which we are shown the events from the positions of two or more d ifferent characters Accord ing to narratology, a novel has its story time and narrative time Story time is the ox-qquence of events and the length of time that passes in the story Narrative time, on the he length of time that is taken up by the telling(or reading) of the story and the sequence of events as they are presented in narrative. It refers to the cultural historical and chronological factors surrounding the events of a narrative. The temporal setting, essentially, sets the stage and context for the plot events and the ideology of both the characters and the author. I. Read“ Salvatore” by maugham and write a comment on it.(70%)答案略 Salvatore William Somerset maugham I wonder if i can do it I knew Salvatore first when he was a boy of fifteen with a pleasant face, a laughing mouth and care-free eyes. He used to spend the morning lying about the beach with next to nothing on and his brown body was as thin as a rail. He was full of grace. He was in and out of the sea all the time swimming with the clumsy, effortless stroke common to the fisher boat Scrambling up the jagged rocks on his hard feet, for except on Sundays never wore shoes, he would throw himself into the deep water with a scream of delight. His father was a fisherman who owned his own little vineyard and Salvatore

2 device of modernist fiction and its later imitators, the technique was pioneered by Dorothy Richardson in Pilgrimage (1915-35) and by James Joyce in Ulysses (1922), and further developed by Virginia Woolf in Mrs Dalloway (1925) and William Faulkner in The Sound and the Fury (1928). Point of view, the position or vantage-point from which the events of a story seem to be observed and presented to us. The chief distinction usually made between points of view is that between third-person narratives and first-person narratives. A third-person narrator may be omniscient, and therefore show an unrestricted knowledge of the story’s events from outside or ‘above’ them; but another kind of third-person narrator may confine our knowledge of events to whatever is observed by a single character or small group of characters, this method being known as ‘limited point of view’. A first-person narrator’s point of view will normally be restricted to his or her partial knowledge and experience, and therefore will not give us access to other characters’ hidden thoughts. Many modern authors have also used ‘multiple point of view’, in which we are shown the events from the positions of two or more different characters. According to narratology, a novel has its story time and narrative time. Story time is the sequence of events and the length of time that passes in the story. Narrative time, on the other hand, covers the length of time that is taken up by the telling (or reading) of the story and the sequence of events as they are presented in narrative. It refers to the cultural, historical and chronological factors surrounding the events of a narrative. The temporal setting, essentially, sets the stage and context for the plot events and the ideology of both the characters and the author. II. Read “Salvatore” by Maugham and write a comment on it. (70%)答案略 Salvatore William Somerset Maugham I wonder if I can do it. I knew Salvatore first when he was a boy of fifteen with a pleasant face, a laughing mouth and care-free eyes. He used to spend the morning lying about the beach with next to nothing on and his brown body was as thin as a rail. He was full of grace. He was in and out of the sea all the time swimming with the clumsy, effortless stroke common to the fisher boat: Scrambling up the jagged rocks on his hard feet, for except on Sundays never wore shoes, he would throw himself into the deep water with a scream of delight. His father was a fisherman who owned his own little vineyard and Salvatore

acted as nursemaid to his two younger brothers. He shouted to them to come inshore when they ventured out too far and made them dress when it was time to climb the hot, vineclad hill for the frugal midday meal. But boys in those Southern parts grow apace and in a little while he was madly in love with a prett l who lived on the grande marina. She had eyes like forest pools and held herself like a daughter of the Caesars. They were affianced, but they could not marry till Salvatore had done his military service, and when he left the island which he had never left in his life before to become a sailor in the navy of King Victor Emmanuel, he wept like a child. It was hard for one who had never been less free than the birds to be at the beck and call of others, it was harder still to live in a battleship with strangers instead of in a little white cottage among the vines; and when he was ashore, to walk in noisy, friendless cities with streets so crowded that he was frightened to cross them, when he had been used to silent paths and the mountains and the sea. I suppose it had never struck him that Ischia, which he looked at every evening (it was like a fairy island in the sunset to see what the weather would be like next day, or Vesuvius, pearly in the dawn, had anything to do with him at all; but when he ceased to have them before his eyes he realized in some dim fashion that they were as much part of him as his hands and his feet. He was dreadfully homesick. But it was hardest of all to be parted from the girl he loved with all his passionate young heart. He wrote to her (in his childlike handwriting) long, ill-spelt letters in which he told her how constantly he thought of her and how much he longed to be back. He was sent here and there, to Spezzia, to venice, to Ban and finally to China. Here he fell ill of some mysterious ailment that kept him in hospital for months. He bore it with the mute and uncomprehending patience of a dog. When he learnt that it was a form of rheumatism that made him unfit for further service his heart exulted, for he could go home; and he did not bother, in fact he scarcely listened, when the doctors told him that he would never again be quite well. What did he care when he was going back to the little island he loved so well and the girl who was waiting I for him? When he got into the rowing-boat that met the steamer from Naples and was rowed ashore he saw his father and mother standing on the jetty and his two brothers, big boys now, and he waved to them. His eyes searched crowd that waited there, for the girl. He could not see her. There was a great deal of kissing when he jumped up the steps and they all, emotional creatures cried a little when they exchanged their greetings. He asked where the girl was. His mother told him that she did not know they had not seen her for

3 acted as nursemaid to his two younger brothers. He shouted to them to come inshore when they ventured out too far and made them dress when it was time to climb the hot, vineclad hill for the frugal midday meal. But boys in those Southern parts grow apace and in a little while he was madly in love with a pretty girl who lived on the Grande Marina1 . She had eyes like forest pools and held herself like a daughter of the Caesars. They were affianced, but they could not marry till Salvatore had done his military service, and when he left the island which he had never left in his life before, to become a sailor in the navy of King Victor Emmanuel, he wept like a child. It was hard for one who had never been less free than the birds to be at the beck and call of others, it was harder still to live in a battleship with strangers instead of in a little white cottage among the vines; and when he was ashore, to walk in noisy, friendless cities with streets so crowded that he was frightened to cross them, when he had been used to silent paths and the mountains and the sea. I suppose it had never struck him that Ischia, which he looked at every evening (it was like a fairy island in the sunset) to see what the weather would be like next day, or Vesuvius, pearly in the dawn, had anything to do with him at all; but when he ceased to have them before his eyes he realized in some dim fashion that they were as much part of him as his hands and his feet. He was dreadfully homesick. But it was hardest of all to be parted from the girl he loved with all his passionate young heart. He wrote to her (in his childlike handwriting) long, ill-spelt letters in which he told her how constantly he thought of her and how much he longed to be back. He was sent here and there, to Spezzia, to Venice, to Ban and finally to China. Here he fell ill of some mysterious ailment that kept him in hospital for months. He bore it with the mute and uncomprehending patience of a dog. When he learnt that it was a form of rheumatism that made him unfit for further service his heart exulted, for he could go home; and he did not bother, in fact he scarcely listened, when the doctors told him that he would never again be quite well. What did he care when he was going back to the little island he loved so well and the girl who was waiting I for him? When he got into the rowing-boat that met the steamer from Naples and was rowed ashore he saw his father and mother standing on the jetty and his two brothers, big boys now, and he waved to them. His eyes searched t among the crowd that waited there, for the girl. He could not see her. There was a great deal of kissing when he jumped up the steps and they all, emotional creatures, cried a little when they exchanged their greetings. He asked where the girl was. His mother told him that she did not know; they had not seen her for

two or three weeks; so in the evening when the moon was shining over the placid sea and the lights of Naples twinkled in the distance he walked down to the Grande marina to her house. She was sitting on the doorstep with her mother. He was a little shy because he had not seen her for so long. He asked her if she had not received the letter that he had written to her to say that he was coming home. Yes, they had received a letter, and they had been told by another of the island boys that he was ill. Yes, that was why he was back was it not a piece of luck? Oh, but they had heard that he would never be quite well again. The doctor talked a lot of nonsense, but he knew very well that now he was home again he would recover They were silent for a little and then the mother nudged the girl. She did not try to soften the blow. She told him straight out, with the blunt directness of her race that she could not marry a man who would never be strong enough to work like a man. They had made up their minds, her mother and father and she, and her father would never give consent When Salvatore went home he found that they all knew. The girls father had been to tell them what they had decided, but they had lacked the courage to tell him themselves. He wept on his mothers bosom. He was terribly unhappy, but he did not blame the girl. A fisherman's life is hard and it needs strength nd endurance. He knev ll that a girl could not afford to marry who might not be able to support her. His smile was very sad and his eyes had the look of a dog that has been beaten, but he did not complain, and he never said a hard word of the girl he had loved so well Then, a few months later, when he had settled down to the common round, working in his fathe her told him that the young woman in the village who was willing to marry him.! Her name was Assunta Shes as ugly as the devil, he said. She was older than he, twenty-four or twenty-five, and she had been engaged to a man who, while doing his military service, had been killed in africa She had a little money of her own and if Salvatore married her she could buy him a boat of his own and they could take a vineyard that by happy chance happened at that moment to be without a tenant. His mother told him that Assunta had seen him at the festa and had fallen in love witlis him. Salvatore smiled his sweet smile and said he would think about it. On the following S unda ressed in the stiff black clothes in which he looked so? much less well than in the ragged shirt and trousers of every day, he went up to high Mass at the parish church and placed himself so that he could have a good

4 two or three weeks; so in the evening when the moon was shining over the placid sea and the lights of Naples twinkled in the distance he walked down to the Grande Marina to her house. She was sitting on the doorstep with her mother. He was a little shy because he had not seen her for so long. He asked her if she had not received the letter that he had written to her to say that he was coming home. Yes, they had received a letter, and they had been told by another of the island boys that he was ill. Yes, that was why he was back; was it not a piece of luck? Oh, but they had heard that he would never be quite well again. The doctor talked a lot of nonsense, but he knew very well that now he was home again he would recover. They were silent for a little, and then the mother nudged the girl. She did not try to soften the blow. She told him straight out, with the blunt directness of her race that she could not marry a man who would never be strong enough to work like a man. They had made up their minds, her mother and father and she, and her father would never give consent. When Salvatore went home he found that they all knew. The girl's father had been to tell them what they had decided, but they had lacked the courage to tell him themselves. He wept on his mother's bosom. He was terribly unhappy, but he did not blame the girl. A fisherman's life is hard and it needs strength and endurance. He knew very well that a girl could not afford to marry a man who might not be able to support her. His smile was very sad and his eyes had the look of a dog that has been beaten, but he did not complain, and he never said a hard word of the girl he had loved so well. Then, a few months later, when he had settled down to the common round, working in his father's vineyard and fishing, his mother told him that there was a young woman in the village who was willing to marry him.'! Her name was Assunta. ' "She's as ugly as the devil," he said. She was older than he, twenty-four or twenty-five, and she had been engaged to a man who, while doing his military service, had been killed in Africa. She had a little money of her own and if Salvatore married her she could buy him a boat of his own and they could take a vineyard that by happy chance happened at that moment to be without a tenant. His mother told him that Assunta had seen him at the festa and had fallen in love witlis him. Salvatore smiled his sweet smile and said he would think about it. On the following Sunday, dressed in the stiff black clothes in which he looked so? much less well than in the ragged shirt and trousers of every day, he went up to High Mass at the parish church and placed himself so that he could have a good

look at the young woman. When he came down again he told his I mother that he was willing Well, they were married and they settled down in a tiny white-washed house in the middle of a handsome vineyard. Salvatore was now a great, big husky fellow, tall and broad, but still with that ingenuous smile and those trusting kindly eyes that he had as a boy. He had the most beautiful manners I have ever seen in my life. Assunta was a grim-visaged female, with decided features and she looked old for her years. But she had a good heart and she was no fool. I used to be amused by the little smile of devotion that she gave her husband when he was being very masculine and masterful; she never ceased to be touched by his gentle sweetness. But she could not bear the girl who had thrown him ove nd notwi thstanding salvat ili had nothing but harsh words for her. Presen tly children were bom to them It was a hard enough life. all through the fishing season towards evening he set out in his boat with one of his brothers for the fishing grounds. I was a long pull of six or seven miles, and he spent the night catching the profitable cuttlefish. Then there was the long row back again in order to sell the catch in time for it to go on the early boat to Naples. At other times he was working in his vineyard from dawn till the heat drove him to rest and then again, when it was a trifle cooler, till dusk. Often his rheumatism prevented him from doing anything at all and then he would lie about the beach, smoking cigarettes, with a pleasant word for everyone notwithstanding the pain that racked his limbs. The foreigners who came down to bathe and saw him there said that these italian fishermen were lazy devils Sometimes he used to bring his children down to give them a bath. They were both be d at this time the elder was thr They sprawled about at the water s edge stark naked and Salvatore stand ing on a rock would dip them in the water. The elder one bore it with stoicism but the baby screamed lustily. Salvatore had enormous hands, like legs of mutton, coarse and hard from constant toil, but when he bathed his children holding them so tenderly, drying them with delicate care; upon my word they were like flowers. He would seat the naked baby on the palm of his hand and hold him up, laughing a little at his smallness, and his laugh was like the laughter of an angel. His eyes then were as candid as his childs I started by saying that I wondered if I could do it and now I must tell you what it is that I have tried to do. I wanted to see whether I could hold your attention for a few pages while i drew for you the portrait of a man, just an ordinary fisherman who possessed nothing in the world except a quality

5 look at the young woman. When he came down again he told his I mother that he was willing. Well, they were married and they settled down in a tiny white-washed house in the middle of a handsome vineyard. Salvatore was now a great, big husky fellow, tall and broad, but still with that ingenuous smile and those trusting, kindly eyes that he had as a boy. He had the most beautiful manners I have ever seen in my life. Assunta was a grim-visaged female, with decided features, and she looked old for her years. But she had a good heart and she was no fool. I used to be amused by the little smile of devotion that she gave her husband when he was being very masculine and masterful; she never ceased to be touched by his gentle sweetness. But she could not bear the girl who had thrown him over, and notwithstanding Salvatore's smiling expostulations she had nothing but harsh words for her. Presently children were bom to them. It was a hard enough life. All through the fishing season towards evening he set out in his boat with one of his brothers for the fishing grounds. It was a long pull of six or seven miles, and he spent the night catching the profitable cuttlefish. Then there was the long row back again in order to sell the catch in time for it to go on the early boat to Naples. At other times he was working in his vineyard from dawn till the heat drove him to rest and then again, when it was a trifle cooler, till dusk. Often his rheumatism prevented him from doing anything at all and then he would lie about the beach, smoking cigarettes, with a pleasant word for everyone notwithstanding the pain that racked his limbs. The foreigners who came down to bathe and saw him there said that these Italian fishermen were lazy devils. Sometimes he used to bring his children down to give them a bath. They were both boys and at this time the elder was three and the younger less than two. They sprawled about at the water's edge stark naked and Salvatore stand ing on a rock would dip them in the water. The elder one bore it with stoicism, but the baby screamed lustily. Salvatore had enormous hands, like legs of mutton, coarse and hard from constant toil, but when he bathed his ; children, holding them so tenderly, drying them with delicate care; upon my word they were like flowers. He would seat the naked baby on the palm of his : hand and hold him up, laughing a little at his smallness, and his laugh was like the laughter of an angel. His eyes then were as candid as his child's. I started by saying that I wondered if I could do it and now I must tell you what it is that I have tried to do. I wanted to see whether I could hold your attention for a few pages while I drew for you the portrait of a man, just an ordinary fisherman who possessed nothing in the world except a quality

which is the rarest, the most precious and the loveliest that anyone can have Heaven only knows why he should so strangely and unexpectedly have possessed it. all i know is that it shone in him with a radiance that, if it had not been unconscious and so humble, would have been to the common run of men hardly bearable. And in case you have not guessed what the quality was, I will tell you. Goodness, just goodness

6 which is the rarest, the most precious and the loveliest that anyone can have. Heaven only knows why he should so strangely and unexpectedly have possessed it. All I know is that it shone in him with a radiance that, if it had not been unconscious and so humble, would have been to the common run of men hardly bearable. And in case you have not guessed what the quality was, I will tell you. Goodness, just goodness

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