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Consider the information given in Units 1—6 and accomplish the tasks given below. Check them with the keys.

1. Read the following representative passages and define the story types.

a) Once upon a time there was a Prince. And this Prince’s dad and mom (the King and Queen) somehow got into their royal heads that no Princess would be good for their boy unless she could feel a pea through one hundred mattresses. So it should come as no surprise that the Prince had a very hard time finding a Princess. Every time he met a nice girl, his mom and dad would pile one hundred mattresses on top a pea and then invite her to sleep over. When the Princess came down for breakfast, the Queen would ask, “How did you sleep, dear?” The Princess would politely say, “Fine, thank you.” And the King would show her the door.

b) My mother arrived at the port of Harwich some time in February, and was immediately apprehended by the British authorities for having filled up her landing form with undue accuracy. To the question: Where born? she had answered St Petersburg. To the question: Where educated? she had answered Leningrad. The immigration authorities were convinced that she was making light of the questionnaire, and I feel bound to add with a certain pride that it was only my presence that saved her from further unpleasantness. This tendency to answer official questions too literally seems to run in the family, perhaps owing to the many frontiers we all have crossed since such encumbrances were invented. (Peter Ustinov, Dear Me)

c) Marianne would have thought herself very inexcusable had she been able to sleep at all the first night after parting from John Willoughby. She was awake the whole night, and she wept the greatest part of it. She got up with an headache, was unable to talk, and unwilling to take any nourishment. When breakfast was over, she walked out by herself, and wandered along their favourite walks, indulging the recollection of past enjoyment and crying over the present reverse. The evening passed off in the equal indulgence of feeling. Marianne played over every song that she had been used to play to Willoughby, every air in which their voices had been oftenest joined, and sat at the instrument gazing on every line of music that he had written out for her, till her heart was so heavy that no farther sadness could be gained; and this nourishment of grief was every day applied. She spent whole hours at the piano alternatively singing and crying, her voice often totally suspended by her tears. In books, too, she courted the misery which a contrast between the past and present was certain of giving. She read nothing but what they had been used to read together. (Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility)

d) Soon, other men began to come into the house. First a doctor, then two detectives, one of whom she knew by name. Later, a police photographer arrived and took pictures, and a man who knew about fingerprints. There was a great deal of whispering and muttering beside the corpse, and the detectives kept asking her a lot of questions. She told her story again, right from the beginning, when Patrick had come in, and she was sewing, and he was so tired that he hadn’t wanted to go out for supper. She told how she’d put the meat in the oven and slipped out to the grocer for vegetables, and come back to find him lying on the floor. “Which grocer?” one of the detectives asked. She told him, and he turned and whispered something to the other detective who immediately went outside into the street. In fifteen minutes he was back with a page of notes, and there was more whispering, and through her sobbing she heard a few of the whispered phrases — “…acted quite normal…very cheerful…wanted to give him a good supper…peas…cheese…impossible that she…” (Roald Dahl, A Lamb to the Slaughter)

e) “It is absurd asking me to behave myself,” the ghost answered, looking in astonishment at the pretty little girl who had ventured to address him, “quite absurd. I must rattle my chains, and groan through keyholes, and walk about at night, if that is what you mean. It is my only reason for existence.”

“It is no reason at all for existing, and you know you have been very wicked. You killed your wife, and it is very wrong to kill any one.”

“Oh, I hate the cheap severity of abstract ethics! My wife was very plain, never had my ruffs properly starched, and knew nothing about cookery! However, it is no matter now, for it is all over; and I don’t think it was very nice of her brothers to starve me to death, though I did kill her.”

“Starve you to death? Oh, Mr. Ghost, I mean Sir Simon, are you hungry? I have a sandwich in my case. Would you like it?”

“No, thank you, I never eat anything now; but it is very kind of you all the same.”(Oscar Wilde, The Canterville Ghost)


F) My name is Joe. That is what my collegue, Milton Davidson, calls me. He is a programmer and I am a computer. I am part of the Multivac-complex and am connected with other parts all over the world. I know everything. Almost everything.

I am Milton’s private computer. His Joe. He understands more about computers than anyone in the world, and I am his experimental model. He has made me speak better than any other computer can. (Isaac Asimov, True Love)

g) One can ready oneself for death. I see death as more of a dynamic than a static event. The actual physical manifestation of the absence of life is simply the ultimate step of a process that leads inevitably to that stage. In the interim, before the absolute end, one can do much to make life as meaningful as possible. What would have devastated me was to discover that I had infected my wife, Jeanne, and my daughter, Camera. I do not think it would have made any difference, on this score, whether I had contracted AIDS “innocently” from a blood transfusion or in one of the ways that most of society disapproves of, such as homosexual contacts or drug addiction. The overwhelming sense of guilt and shame would be the same in either case, if I had infected another human being. (Arthur Ashe, Days of Grace)


2. (A) Matching stories. Here are the opening and closing paragraphs of four different books. Read them carefully and match them up. Define the story types.

a) I was born on 16th April 1889, at eight o’clock at night, in East Lane, Walworth. Soon after, we moved to West Square, St. George’s Road, Lambeth. According to Mother my world was a happy one.


b) “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man left on earth!” Netta faced him defiantly, a tiny figure shaking with outrage, her spirit as fiery as the color of her copper curls. “The feeling is mutual,” he snapped back through tight lips.


C) At the palace the King was glad to welcome his son’s bride. He arranged a magnificent wedding for the Prince and his chosen wife. The wedding feast lasted a whole week and they all lived happily ever after.


D) With such happiness, I sometimes sit out on our terrace at sunset and look over a vast green lawn to the lake in the distance, and beyond the lake the reassuring mountains, and in this mood think of nothing, but enjoy their magnificent serenity.

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