Curs

Contents
UNIT 1 UNIT 2 UNIT 3 UNIT 4 UNIT 5 UNIT 6 UNIT 7
5 12 18 23 28 32 37
A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text
UNIT 1
A. Read the story below.
Checkpoint
by Raymond Humphreys
Gimme one of them crushed lemon drinks with ice. Citron Press,1 Monsieur? None of your seetron pressay, boy. Youre a Limey2. Ive seen you before. That means you can speak American, right? Yes, sir. Ben was taken aback, but tried not to show it. He had thought that his French accent was good enough for him not to get himself noticed so easily. It wasnt a good idea to bring yourself to the attention of the Americans at any time. And today of all days, for Ben, it could be disastrous. Sit down. Im not allowed to sit down when Im working, sir. SIT DOWN! Ben seated himself opposite the sergeant, who was still in uniform, and waited for him to speak. He did not seem to be in any hurry to do this. He made Ben wait while he rolled himself a cigarette. The American acted as if he wasnt there at all, but Ben knew better than to show the impatience he was feeling. At last the soldier looked up from beneath dark, heavy brows. Want one of these? Fags3 you call them, doncha? I always thought you Limeys were trying to tell us something about yourselves, calling them after Faggots like that. No thanks. I dont smoke. What about a drink? Ill get you your lemon juice, sir. I already told you to sit down. I want to talk to you. The drink can wait. Anyhow, you dont think Ive come to this back street dump to drink lemon juice, do you? Ben could see where this was starting to lead. Things might get awkward. The fifteenth arrondissment4 of West Paris5 was not much frequented by the Americans. That was why hed chosen to work here in this caf. And because hed met Denis6 here. Were not allowed to sell wine here any more. Ben tried to keep his tone neutral, stating fact, not defying or challenging the soldier. There was a time and place for bravery. This wasnt it.
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A crushed lemon drink, still popular in France. It used to be widely drunk. A derisory American term for Britisher. It has its origins in the fact that lime juice rations were served to British sailors to combat the disease of scurvy. 3 Fags of faggots are homosexuals in America. In the UK, the former is a slang term for cigarettes and the latter a kind of prepared offal meat or kindling for a fire. 4 A division of Paris. 5 West Paris is not of any significance except in this story, where it has been substituted for the historical East Berlin. 6 St. Denis or St. Denys is the Patron Saint of France.
The American laughed. Do I look like that much of a sucker? You cant put me off that easy! I know youve got a little back room somewhere. All these French joints have. Cant do without their wine, these Frenchies. Anyway, you and me can help each other. We both speak American, dont we? Our ways are the same, not like these foreigners. Me, I like Limeys. Wed all get along just swell if not for troublemakers like that jerk Dubritt7 of yours. Ben stiffened. It was all he could do to stop himself from blazing back at the American. Dubritt was a sensitive memory for any Briton. He was the reforming prime minister who had disappeared five years ago during the London Spring of 1968. And he was Bens uncle. It would be all up with him if anyone found that out. He hoped that this soldier didnt know about his plans already. Cmon.I didnt mean to offend you. You and me should be pals. Now the American spoke in a gentler tone. I happen to think myself that we might have made a mistake to send the tanks into London quite as soon as we did. But when Dubritt started to speak out against the authority of the church, what else could the President do? The man was attacking the heart of Western Civilisation. I dont know anything about politics. Best way to keep it. Anyhow, I didnt come here to talk about Dubritt. Now, what about this wine? Ill have to talk to the owner. He might know of somewhere that we can get hold of a bottle for you. Just cut the crap and bring me the wine. And make that two bottles. I got me a mean thirst. * What are we going to do about the American soldier then, Denis? Why, give him his wine, my friend. Denis Lebrun smiled as if it were a small matter. What else can we do? If we say no then he only makes trouble for us. If we give him wine we know something about him that might be useful in the future. It is also against their law for them to drink wine. Ben grimaced, and put the wine on a tray for the waiting American. Why did he have to come here, of all the bars and brasseries he could have chosen in West Paris? And why did he have to come today, just when Ben was ready to make his escape from behind the Dollar Curtain?8 Five years of planning, scheming, and hard work had brought Ben to West Paris and the threshold of freedom. Now it was all on the line, just because some Yankee 9 soldier couldnt keep away from the bottle. * What kept you, Limey? We had to send out for the wine.
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Alexander Dubek was the First Secretary of Czechoslovakia in 1968, at the time of the Prague Spring. Russian tanks were sent into the city to quell the movement towards liberalism. Dubek was deposed in 1969 and deprived of Communist Party membership in 1970. 8 The Dollar Curtain is substituted for The Iron Curtain of history. The term was made famous by Sir Winston Churchill who used it in a speech in March 1946. His actual words were an iron curtain has descended across the Continent. However, the description had previously been used by others, notably by Josef Goebbels in 1945, and as early as 1920 by Ethel Snowden. 9 Yankee was used derogatively by members of the southern United States about those in the north, though originally it was derived from Jan Kees or John Cheese, a supposed resident of Connecticut. Later, it was used by the British as a term for any American. 6
Sure, theres fairies at the bottom of my garden, too. Aw, forget it. Sit down and pour yourself a drink. I dont drink. Anyway, its against the- Why do I have to tell you everything twice? He spoke with a quiet menace in his voice. Ben sat down and filled the glass. He hesitated. What was the man trying to do? Now drink it. All of it. Ben drank. The glass was chipped and the wine was coarse but, after the first few sips, it gave Ben a good feeling. He imagined that he could feel the wine seeping warmly into his veins. Ever so slightly he relaxed. Thats better. Now have another one. As Ben poured a second glassful, the American pulled a smart black camera from his knapsack. Whats that for? Just a little insurance. Cmon, lets see you drink! The camera motor whirred gently and the shutter clicked three times. At once the wine tasted sour to Ben and left a sickly, hopeless feeling in his stomach. It was two hours later when the American sergeant left the Caf de la Convention. He swayed just a little as he went, but otherwise was well in control of himself for someone who had just swallowed two litres of rough African wine. Fifteen minutes after that Ben Walker and Denis Lebrun sat down to make their last preparations for their long-planned escape to freedom. * There can be no turning back now, my friend. We must go through with this whatever happens. Look, we are coming to the Paris Wall10 now. Its OK, Denis. Im scared to death, I dont mind telling you. But Im not going to let you or our people down. Do not worry. The papers are foolproof. We are as good as through now. Are you sure that you have them safely? Im sure. I looked at them just a few minutes ago. It was the third time since they had left the Caf de la Convention that Denis had asked that question. He was breathing a little heavier as well. So he must be nervous, too. Good to know that he was only human. Ben could feel the documents reassuringly against his breast. The West European Class 2 Control and Identity Document, genuine. The Transit Worker Pass, signed by officials of both the East and West French Governments, also genuine. Stolen, and tampered with slightly, yes, but still genuine. He would keep these documents afterwards, as a reminder of times past. He wanted something to keep from the old life. Even if it was just a government document with the rubber-stamped names of the cities in which he had lived and worked: Cardiff, the place of his birth; London; Brussels; West Paris. He would never see those cities again. Despite everything, the thought filled him with a strange sadness. Where are you planning to go after East Paris? It wont be safe for us there for more than a few weeks. Denis words shattered his maudlin thoughts of the past. Now his mind turned to a brighter future. Oh, I thought maybe Vienna or Budapest. Perhaps Berlin. Ben allowed himself to laugh at his own indecision. I dont know, Denis, to tell you the truth. Ive only thought
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The fall of the Berlin Wall was the symbolic end of Communism in Eastern Europe.
about getting away from the West. I just want to put their moral majorities and dollar markets as far behind me as I can. It is the same for me. But we must keep in touch, you and I. We have much to remember together, and it is not all of it bad. Better not to talk of these things any more. There is the checkpoint. Ben would have lapsed into silence at this point anyway. There was something terrible about the emptiness here around the Boulevard de lHpital .The masonry of once-famous buildings, now deserted, was crumbling. Peeling posters, no longer read by anyone, flapped forlornly in the light breeze. Worst of all, to Ben, was the silence of the River Seine. Traffic was no longer permitted to use this stretch of the river that had in former times been the main artery of a proud city. The two men made their way slowly and purposefully along the final fifty or so yards that led to the checkpoint. The Paris Wall, symbol of a divided Europe, loomed ever nearer. Before long, they were close enough to be able to make out some of the slogans sprayed on the concrete. How many men and women had risked their lives in creeping up to the Wall at dead of night just to make silent protest against the oppressors from across the Atlantic? How many men and women had they tried not to think of the fate of some of those who had gone this way before them since 1946. Its quiet, Denis. Its almost as if theres no one there. Dont you believe it. There are plenty of armed guards up there in the watchtowers. There should be some in the border post, too. Ah, here comes one of them now. What did I tell you? Look at his face, Denis. He doesnt look too pleased about being disturbed by a couple of Europeans. The guard ambled slowly towards them, yawning. The tension Ben was feeling made him want to laugh out loud, or shout obscenities. It was only the hard glint of the evening sunlight on the short black barrel of the soldiers machine gun that reminded him that this was the moment of truth, and made him keep his mouth firmly shut. No one tell you guys that the border closes at seven oclock? It is only half-past-six. Denis kept his voice steady and his tone matter-of-fact. Ben could only marvel at his cool nerve. Dont get sassy with me, Frenchie. Ill have to go see the sergeant. Ben held his breath as the soldier walked slowly back to the border post. Could something go wrong even now? This was after all the most dangerous moment for them. He turned to his companion: I didnt expect this. Whats he doing now? Everything is well, my friend. We must expect the Americans to make some difficulty. Maybe we should have come earlier. Its beginning to get dark now. You are not thinking. We come now because they will not wish to do so much checking at this hour. But look, the sergeant is coming out to us. Denis! There was no need for Bens hissed warning. The two men had recognised the heavybrowed American sergeant in the same instant. Ben hoped for the mercy of a quick bullet. He could not bear to think of the interrogation, of the sudden execution after months or even years of imprisonment. Perhaps not that even. Perhaps they would let him live, only for him to end his days as a man old before his time, with broken health, toiling away in some grey factory in Madrid, the fruits of his labour being seen only by the transatlantic theocracy. Hello, Limey. The Americans voice was quieter than it had been in the caf. He did not meet Bens eye and gave no hint of recognition beyond his murmured words. He took the
documents and examined them critically. What was he doing? He knew that Ben could not be a transit worker. Only this afternoon he had been talking to him in the caf. The seconds crawled by. Ben and Denis waited for the moment that had to come. But no, the American finished looking at the papers and handed them back to Ben. Then he looked him squarely in the eye for the first time. Listen Limey. The voice was quiet but the words were distinct. They held what was almost a note of humour. When you get to wherever you and Frenchie are going, make sure you have a bottle for Sergeant Joe McCarthy.11 Then he smiled, briefly but broadly. And make that two bottles. Ben could hardly believe what he had heard. He stood rooted to the spot, searching McCarthys face for a clue as to why he was doing this. He wanted to embrace the man, to shout out with gratitude. But McCarthys expression hardened. You want I should change my mind? he demanded in an anxious whisper. Then, in a louder voice, for the benefit of the soldier who was standing a few paces too close for comfort: Get going! Soldier - here! Make sure these guys dont linger on the bridge. And so Denis and Ben passed through the checkpoint with a machine gun pointed at their backs. But the gun didnt matter. It didnt matter at all. As they crossed the silent Pont dAusterlitz, towards East Paris, towards Eastern Europe and freedom, hardly believing that they were doing so at last, they felt that Joe McCarthy had struck a small but important blow against the Wall. They could only hope that one day, after many more such blows, it would fall forever. Perhaps one day it would. END B. Answer the following questions. (This story is an alternative version of actual historical events, with East Germany becoming Western France; The Berlin Wall becoming The Paris Wall; The Soviet Union becoming America; and so on. After World War II the Soviet Union extended its influence to include Eastern Europe, including, of course, Romania) Recalling 1. Did Ben show his impatience? 2. What did the American realise Ben was? 3. Why had Ben chosen to work in that caf? 4. What made him stiffen? 5. Why had the President of the US sent tanks into London? 6. When did Ben come to West Paris? 7. What was his plan? 8. Why did Ben and Denis try to cross the border just before closing time? 9. Were their documents forged? 10. Did the American show in any way that he had recognised Ben?
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Senator Joseph McCarthy was the infamous witch-hunter of Communists in early 1950s America. He was highly influential for a time, but his power diminished after his activities were formally condemned by the Senate in 1954.
Interpreting 1. How could Ben and Denis take advantage of the fact that the American had drunk wine in their caf? 2. Why did the American take Bens picture? 3. Does the name of the caf have any significance? 4. Why was West Paris the threshold of freedom? 5. Why did Denis think East Paris would not be safe for them for more than a few weeks? 6. In what way did the American strike a blow against the Paris Wall? Extending 1. Ben thought it wasnt a good idea to bring yourself to the attention of Americans at any time. Was he right? 2. Is the authority of the church the heart of Western civilisation? Will theocracy ever govern the US? 3. How accurate is the parallel that the author draws between the real world and his alternative history? C. Vocabulary The denotation of a word is what the word actually signifies. According to the dictionary, the word hair, for example, denotes one of the fine, threadlike structures that grow from the skin of most mammals. The connotation of a word is what the word suggests or implies. It includes the emotions or associations that surround it. Hair, for example, may connote beauty, fertility, nudity, strength, uncleanliness, temptation, rebellion, or primitivism. A word has many different connotations depending on the context in which it is used. After the first sentence below are several series of words that the author of Checkpoint might have used but did not select. Note the differences in meaning when an italicised word is substituted for the related word at the head of the series. Supply your own choices for each of the words that follow the other sentences. 1. Perhaps they would let him live, only for him to end his days as a man old before his time, with broken health, toiling away in some grey factory in Madrid, the fruits of his labour being seen only by the transatlantic theocracy. a. broken: damaged, shattered, feeble b. toiling: sweating, slaving, breaking his back c. fruits: benefits, results, returns d. labour: work, effort, exertion 2. He swayed just a little as he went, but otherwise was well in control of himself for someone who had just swallowed two litres of rough African wine. a. b. c. d. swayed: otherwise: control: swallowed:
3. Stolen, and tempered with slightly, yes, but still genuine.
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a. b. c. d.
stolen: tampered with: slightly: genuine:
4. Peeling posters, no longer read by anyone, flapped forlornly, in the light breeze. a. b. c. d. peeling: flapped: forlornly: breeze:
5. He stood rooted to the spot, searching McCarthys face for a clue as to why he was doing this. a. b. c. d. rooted: spot: searching: clue:
D. Grammar Can is used to express: (1) ability, e.g. He can play chess. (2) permission, e.g. Can I wear this jacket then? (3) an offer, e.g. I can get you hot water. (4) a request, e.g. Can you bring me the book? (5) an invitation, e.g. You can come with me. (6) a suggestion, e.g. You can always leave it. (7) possibility, e.g. She could be right. (8) impossibility, e.g. She cant be that stupid. (9) prohibition, e.g. You cannot have money of any kind in your possession while in this institution. (10) speculation, e.g. I couldnt do that anyway. Explain what meaning lies behind the use of can, could, etc., in the following sentences taken from the story. 1. And today of all days, for Ben, it could be disastrous. 2. The drink can wait. 3. Ben could see where this was starting to lead. 4. You cant put me off that easy! 5. But when Dubritt started to speak out against the authority of the church, what else could the President do? 6. Now it was all on the line, just because some Yankee soldier couldnt keep away from the bottle. 7. There can be no turning back now, my friend. 8. Could something go wrong even now? 9. Ben could hardly believe what he had heard. 10. They could only hope that, one day, after many more such blows, it would fall forever. E. Composition 1. Imagine that you are Ben and a local newspaper has asked you to write an article describing how you escaped from Paris. 2. Write a story about a young characters first encounter with danger and death.
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UNIT 2
Yarvas Return
by Raymond Humphreys Is it far now, Daddy? Shouldnt be long now. Come on Jayne, youre supposed to be navigating. Give me a chance, will you? His wifes tones were exasperated. Ive got to see to the children, too, dont forget. Martyn was going to say what the hell was he doing with the kids then, but instead bit his lip. Look Mummy, this place is called St. Nicholas. Thats what you said to look out for, wasnt it? Left here, Martyn. Yes, of course I mean next left! The car swung off the main A48 road and followed the narrow, winding lane through the hamlet of Dyffryn. A short walk across farmlands led the family, Martyn, Jayne and their two young children Emma and David, to the site of Tinkinswood Burial Chamber. * Six thousand years earlier, and by a quite different route, Yarva had also come to Tinkinswood. Yarva had many other names, but Yarva was the one she had been given here and the one that she liked best. She was a being of pure intelligence, and of powerful curiosity. This enquiring spirit had caused her to leave the others of her kind and come to seek new experience and knowledge in the material universe. It was simply by chance that she happened upon a small planet that was later to be called Earth. Yarvas scientific nature had drawn her to such worlds before. She was fascinated by the presence of so much matter in one small place, and loved to drift over the surface, watching the laws of physics at work. Every planet was different. Some had seas of molten rock swirling about them, others were almost featureless. There were even some that were gaseous globes with no true surface at all. But this world had excited Yarva in a completely new way. For, as she came near to the planets surface, she became aware of the presence of another. Never before in her roamings through the material universe had she encountered another being of any kind. All of her friends preferred an existence of contemplation, far away from solid things, but she was a true explorer. They did not know what they were missing. This other seemed far off, for Yarva could only faintly detect its presence at all. She cast her mind about, but could not locate it. She searched more carefully, and was surprised to find a faint pulse of being on the surface of the planet itself. It appeared to be strangely fixed in time and place. Yarva could not understand. The others intelligence was dim and flickering in the extreme. Stranger still, it seemed to be bound up with, or trapped inside, some material thing that was moving very slowly across the surface of the planet below. Yarvas mind recoiled from the horror of the idea. She could not believe such a thing possible.
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Slowly, she became aware of the approach of yet another being, this one also caught up in a lump of matter. Its mind also teetered on the very brink of existence. The mind was weak, but had a stronger quality than the first. * Did people live inside these stones then, Daddy? It doesnt look at all a nice place to live. Not a bit like our house. No, Emma. It was used to put people in after theyd died. It was a sacred place for worship, as well. They used to come here on Sundays, did they, just like we go to church? Young Davids tone was that of the six-year-old sceptic that he was. Not quite, son. Away from the stresses of city traffic, which he always found to be an abomination, Dr. Martyn Phillips had started to relax. Although they were just a few miles to the west of Cardiff, this place seemed splendidly remote and isolated. With the silence disturbed only by raucous calls from the surrounding rookeries, it was possible for him to imagine what it would have been like here in Neolithic times, when Tinkinswood Burial Chamber was newly built. He wanted to communicate this to his children: Look, kids, life was much different six thousand years ago. No cars, no shops, no proper houses. If you wanted something to eat you had to go out and hunt for it. Do you realise, David, that a Neolithic hunter may have stood on the exact spot that youre standing on now? * Over her first revulsion, Yarva had started to attune her consciousness to the phenomenon below. She gently probed at the edges of the two minds that were so strangely held in the slowly-moving objects below. She knew that anything more direct might obliterate those minds altogether. From the mind imprisoned in the larger object, she could detect only waves of misery. It was a dull and helpless misery that was somehow bound up with the fate of the object itself. Yarva could not compare it with anything else within her experience, but she felt intense pity for this being. Although she would not understand the concepts for some time to come, she was witnessing the pain and fear of a wounded animal for the first time in her existence. She found it a little easier to read the other mind. It seemed to have a slightly greater range than she had first thought, despite its rudimentary nature. It was even capable of a primitive kind of reasoning. All its powers were directed towards the pursuit of the larger object. The smaller being even seemed to have a name for the larger one: Bison. Yarva focused her own mind more carefully still. She began to have a glimmering of what it meant to be tied to a material body. It gave her a sensation that was alarming and yet thrilling at the same time. What it must be to have the intellect subjugated to the strange urges to which these creatures were beholden! Creatures - that was the name for this aberrant pairing of consciousness and matter. It seemed that the smaller creature - Man was its own idea of its identity - had already damaged, and was now intent on destroying, or in some horrifying way, absorbing, the other. In a means that Yarva could not begin to understand, it had to do this to ensure its own survival. The very idea sent shudders of disgust through Yarva. Yet her curiosity was aroused, and she still wanted to know more about the strange creature. To do this, she had to reach out and touch its mind directly
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In that moment of contact between two universes which should never have been aware of each other, the concept of worship was born into the world of man. In that moment, Yarva became insane. * Dont go in there, Martyn. It must be filthy. No, its OK, Jayne. Quite dry and clean really. Well, its a bit creepy. Martyn Phillips laughed, but he could understand Jaynes feelings. There was certainly an aura about this place, a feeling of heaviness in the air that was not just the psychological result of standing beneath the 40-ton capstone. Be careful, Daddy. Dont worry, Emma. These stones have stood here for six thousand years. Theyre not about to fall down now. * The planet was very different from the way that Yarva remembered it. The mancreatures had multiplied enormously, and the structures that they so much liked to erect had spread like a rash across the planets surface. But Tinkinswood was much the same as before. The structure that the man-creatures had erected in her honour soon after her coming was still standing, not much touched by the passage of six thousand years. Although she had soon moved on to other areas of the planet, places where there were more of the man-creatures to give Yarva what she had craved of them, Tinkinswood remained special to her. It was the place that she thought of most during the long ages of her imprisonment. Here it was that she had first tasted the joy of being worshipped; here it was that she wanted to return to first. Through six thousand years she had brooded upon the thing that the others of her kind had taken away from her. To be worshipped! The beings that she had once counted as her friends would not, could not, understand what that meant. What did they know, they with their endless empty contemplation of the greatness of their Universe? They had torn her away from this world. Her world. Now she had at last escaped from the prison they had made for her. Now she was back to claim the adoration that was hers by right. Just as before, she would make the men of Tinkinswood her devoted followers. Then she would again show herself to the tribes of the warm and fertile lands to the east, across the water. Those eastern tribes had been so intense in their worship, so eager to give her the thing that she had come to need beyond all else. No wonder she had come to think of them as her chosen people. Once again, she would again use her powers to display herself in all her glory. The burning bush, the voice from the heavens, the blinding light. All such simple things, but how much they meant to these creatures. There were man-creatures at the Tinkinswood structure now, four of them. Yarva was concerned to see that they were not engaged in an act of worship. So much time had passed. There was much work to be done. She gently probed the mind of one of the creatures, the one that was actually standing inside the structure. It was subtly different to those she had known before. Its powers of abstract reasoning were developed to a limited but definite degree, and it had a much stronger sense of self-awareness than she had ever encountered in a man-creature. Yes! Why should she not do it? The contacts she had made with their minds before now had always been fleeting and unsatisfying. Always she had been tempted to merge her
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mind with one of theirs, but had never found a mind of the right quality. Now she could at last have the full knowledge of what it was to be an intelligence bound up with a material creature * Martyn! Martyn! Are you all right? Jayne saw her husband stagger and fall, for no apparent reason. For a moment he held his hands over his eyes, then had risen on unsteady legs and emerged from the chamber. Now he stood facing her. A strange look was in his eyes. Martyn? Whats wrong? Yarva saw the woman-creature standing before her. Something about the way it stood, arms protectively around its young ones, reminded Yarva of a past time, one of the special times. Then, there had only been one young one, and Yarva had spared it. She would not be so foolish this time. Behold, here I am! Martyn? Take these whom you love, and lay them on this stone. Give them as burnt offerings to the glory of Yarva! This time, there was no ram caught in a thicket, and the only voices that called from above were the harsh, chilling ones from the rookeries. END B. Answer the following questions. Recalling 1. Who was driving the car? 2. What had attracted Yarva to Earth? 3. What had Tinkinswood Burial Chamber been used for? 4. When was it built? 5. What were the two beings that Yarva detected? 6. What idea sent shudders of disgust through Yarva? 7. How did Yarva become insane? 8. What made her come back? 9. How had Yarva appeared to human beings? 10. What worried her when she saw the family? 11. What did she order Jayne to do? Interpreting 1. How powerful was Yarvas mind? 2. Was it tied to a material body? 3. Where did Yarva spend six thousand years? 4. Who thought Yarva was insane? Was she really insane? 5. Whose mind did Yarva probe? 6. Why did she feel tempted to see what it was like to merge with a human being? 7. Was she changed after six thousand years? If yes, was she changed for the better or for the worse? 8. Where does the idea of the ram caught in a thicket come from?
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Extending 1. Yarva became a goddess in the eyes of human beings. Why? Does Yarva resemble any goddess that you know of? 2. Although the gods and goddesses had supernatural powers, they also had human traits. Does Yarva have any human traits? If yes, what are they? C. Vocabulary Stories are made up of many different kinds of relationships: time order, cause and effect, comparison and contrast, and spatial order. - Time order tells the reader when each event happened in relation to other events. Therefore, a time order relationship answers the question When? Connectors (words that join two ideas or events) showing time order are after, as, before, earlier, finally, later, meanwhile, now, since, then, until, when, and where. - A cause makes something happen. An effect is what happens. Therefore, a cause and effect relationship answers the question Why? or How? - A comparison and contrast relationship shows how things are alike and how they are different. Therefore, it answers the question Are they alike? or Are they different?. Among the words or word groups that show contrast are although, but, however, instead, nevertheless, on the other hand, and yet. - Spatial order tells where objects are in relation to one another (for example, in front of, in back of). Therefore, a spatial order relationship answers the question Where? Identify the relationship(s) in each sentence below. Write next to it T for time order, CE for cause and effect, CC for comparison and contrast, and S for spatial order. 1. _____ Martyn was going to say what the hell was he doing with the kids then, but instead bit his lip. 2. _____ A short walk across farmlands led the family, Martyn, Jayne and their two young children Emma and David, to the site of Tinkinswood Burial Chamber. 3. _____ Six thousand years earlier, and by a quite different route, Yarva had also come to Tinkinswood. 4. _____ It was simply by chance that she happened upon a small planet that was later to be called Earth. 5. _____ For, as she came near to the planets surface, she became aware of the presence of another. 6. _____ Stranger still, it seemed to be bound up with, or trapped inside, some material thing that was moving very slowly across the surface of the planet below. 7. _____ Although they were just a few miles to the west of Cardiff, this place seemed splendidly remote and isolated. 8. _____ It [the mind] seemed to have a slightly greater range than she had first thought, despite its rudimentary nature. 9. _____ Yet her curiosity was aroused, and she still wanted to know more about the strange creature. 10. ____ This time, there was no ram caught in a thicket, and the only voices that called from above were the harsh, chilling ones from the rookeries. D. Grammar Inverted Word Order
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The usual order of words in an English sentence is subject-and-predicate. An author, however, may deliberately change the normal word order in a sentence in order to make the sentence more exciting or dramatic. Here are two examples from the story. 1. Never before in her roamings through the material universe had she encountered another being of any kind. 2. From the mind imprisoned in the larger object, she could detect only waves of misery. Find other sentences in the story that have unusual word order. Explain the effects the writer achieves by inverting it. E. Composition 1. Write a short newspaper report that might have appeared next day. 2. Write your own myth that deals with a conflict between a human being and a god or goddess. Remember that a myth often reveals human beings shortcomings and uses the outcome to explain a natural phenomenon. 3. Have you ever visited a place or had an experience that was very different from what you thought it would be? Briefly describe the experience and tell how it differed.
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UNIT 3
Pumlumon
by Raymond Humphreys Hypothermia. That was one of the words echoing around his mind. He knew with an icy certainty that now it was creeping upon him, dulling his senses, slowing his movements, all the time urging him to lie down quietly on this dome of a mountain and be done with it all. If. That was the other word. If he had worn warmer clothes. If he had turned back at the first sign of mist. If he hadnt fallen and cracked his head on that boulder. If he hadnt left the warmth of the Dyffryn Castell Hotel for what should have been not much more than stroll to the top of Pen Pumlumon Fawr 1 on a fine December morning He did not know whether he had been on the mountain for hours or days. He only knew that now it was dark, and that the fog had given way to a sheeting rain, raking through his thin sweater and gnawing away at what was left of his consciousness. Nor did he know when he had first seen the light. In truth, he hadnt seen it at all, but rather became half-aware of a glow from below, and was drawn to it by the last frail moth of hope fluttering within him. As he came nearer, he could see that the light, a poor trembling thing, was coming from the window of a stone-built farmhouse. He called it a window but really it was no more than a cracked wooden shutter, rattling in a roughly-made frame as the wind and rain pounded against the building. It seemed to take him hours to reach the house, his whole being fixed upon its stark image and the thought that no matter what, he must go on putting one slow-motion foot in front of the other until he reached it. Now something else touched the fringe of his dimming and confused senses, which for so long had known only darkness, cold, and the dull pain that lay heavily on his chest. It was, he slowly realised, the reek of animals. As at last he found himself clinging to the end-wall of the house, he could hear them, too: a shuffling of heavy feet in straw and a muted lowing. Even in his half-alive state it seemed odd to him that there were animals in the house, but he knew that he must reach the far end of the building, where he had seen the feeble light and where, he could see now, smoke swirled from a chimney, telling surely of human help and safety. Step by painful step he made it to the heavy wooden door, and flapped weakly against it with the last of his failing strength. There was no answer, and he tasted a bitterness rising in his throat as the cruelty of his fate became clear to him. He lost consciousness, and drifted off into oblivion. * At first there was a flickering redness, nothing more. Then, slowly, he became aware of his own person: still, cold, and seemingly tightly bound by something. With an effort he forced his eyes open, and the redness was replaced by the blurred image of a tiny flame, just a few feet from his face. His eyes focused, and he could see that the flame belonged to something akin to a candle, a reed held in place by a metal contraption. The tight binding that
1
The name of a mountain in Mid Wales. At one time it was thought to be the highest, but now that accurate measurements are possible it is known that there are a number of others that exceed it. The name is usually rendered in English Plynlimon.
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he had felt upon him turned out to be layer upon layer of coarse blankets, all wrapped firmly around him. He was in a bed, an old iron thing. The little flame barely illuminated the tiny, low-ceilinged room, but he could see that it contained another, smaller, bed, even olderlooking than this one, and two heaps of ragged clothes that probably served the same purpose. Then, while he was still taking in his strange surroundings, something else loomed out of the darkness toward him. It was the face of a woman. She was young and delicately fine in appearance, but worn-looking. Her fair skin was drawn just a little too tightly across her high cheekbones for her face, oddly framed in a white bonnet, to be called pretty. But her eyes were a intense blue, and were lit by an infinite kindness as they concernedly searched his own. Popeth yn iawn, nawr bach.2 I-I dont - Dydw i -.3 He had little enough Welsh at the best of times; now his memory baulked at the task of finding the words. He tried again: Dydw i ddim yn siarad Cymraeg,4 he managed to stutter out, hoping that he was saying that he didnt speak Welsh. Saesneg?5 No, Im from Swansea. Rwyn...rwyn dod o 6 Swansea...o Abertawe. The effort was too much for him. His eyelids drooped, and he sighed deeply. Paid a phoeni, paid a phoeni.7 She smiled at him, put a finger to her lips, and noiselessly left the room. When she had left, he started to gather his thoughts. In fact, considering his recent ordeal, his thoughts seemed strangely lucid, and before long they were full of questions. Where was he? Who was the woman, and why was she dressed as if she belonged to a different era? What on earth were cattle and horses doing inside the house? Before many minutes had passed, the woman was back in the room. He heard no step on the stair, and again she seemed to appear before him without warning. In her hands was a carved wooden tray, on which she carried a steaming pottery bowl. She sat down beside him on the bed, and without a word started to feed him some kind of broth from a wooden spoon. She fed him patiently, easing tiny drops of the liquid through his numbed lips. The broth was watery stuff, but hot and salty. It seemed to work directly on his system, and before long he began to feel some stirrings of life within his aching frame. When the bowl was half-empty, he tried to speak to her. This time he abandoned his attempt to speak in Welsh, letting out a tumble of questions in English. The woman seemed not to understand at all, waiting quietly as he spoke, as if his words had little to do with her. Then, when he had exhausted himself, she smiled her deep warm smile, and allowed those blue eyes to look steadily into his for a long moment. She offered him her hand, but when he tried to reach out for it, he felt nothing. He told himself he was still suffering from exposure or worse, and was very tired. He closed his eyes and slept. * When he opened his eyes again, sunlight was streaming into the room. He was still beneath his heavy load of blankets, but now he could feel the warmth they gave. The room seemed much larger in the light of day, and he was surprised to see that someone must have
2 3
Everythings alright now, little one bach or little one is used as a term of endearment here. I dont speak Welsh. 4 English? 5 I come from 6 from Swansea. 7 Dont worry, dont worry.
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removed the other bed whilst he slept. Nor were there now piles of clothes on the floor, and altogether the room seemed tidier and newer, belonging to this century rather than some distant one. He felt a gentle pressure on his hand, and realised that the woman was still holding it. He looked up at her, and saw again the kindly light of the eyes that had, he knew, kept him from sliding into the abyss. We thought we were losing you last night, young man. Diw,8 but you were just a breath away from the end when we found you. You do speak English! Of course I do. Ydych chin hoffi siarad Cymraeg?9 No, English is OK. But last night we were speaking in Welsh, or at least I was trying to. Last night? Last night you wouldnt be speaking anything to anyone. Now then, you still need your rest this morning. Doctors coming back to look at you in a minute. Her tone was chiding, but still she held his hand tightly. Strength and vigour seemed to be flowing directly into him from the plump firmness of her hand. Strange, that hand had seemed so different, more frail, last night when she had held it out to him. Then he realised that other things were different about her. This morning she seemed older, but comely and with a fine glow to he cheeks. Her dress, too, was different; still dark, but now the material seemed richer, and the odd little bonnet had gone. He looked more closely at her face. Yes, those pale blue eyes were unmistakable. All the rest must all have been a trick of the light, or the spawn of a fevered brain. But still he had spoken to her last night. He wanted to speak to her now, didnt want her to go away. Not just yet. It was lucky I managed to get as far as your house last night. But you didnt .My husband found you. I reached the house. Im sure I did. I remember getting to the door and- Well, you reached a house, that you did, if you can still call it a house now its all but fallen down. My husband found you by Pwll Uchaf.10 Its nearly a mile from here. This is Pwll Isaf.11 Nobodys lived at the old place since my great-grandmothers day. But no more talking now, Ill get you something that will warm the cockles of your heart. He waited, a thousand unanswered questions crowding in on him. After a few minutes, he heard a weighty tread on the staircase outside the bedroom, and the woman returned. She carried a steaming white bowl on an elaborately carved tray. Where did you get that tray? Well, funny you should ask really. Its after my great-grandmother. The one who lived at Pwll Uchaf. Diw, youre full of questions, you are. But all the questions had been answered. He looked up, and now it was no surprise to see another woman standing behind his benefactor. She was thinner, younger, a little pinched from the hard life she had led. In the sunlight, she was faded, frail, and but a pale shadow of the other. Yet there could be no mistaking the likeness, the wonderful blue eyes. He smiled. And both women smiled back at him.
8 9
God. Would you like to speak in Welsh? A house name The Upper Pool. A house name The Lower Pool.
10 11
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END B. Answer the following questions. Recalling 1. What were the effects of hypothermia on the protagonist? 2. What was the weather like on the mountain? 3. What made the protagonist think there were people inside the farmhouse? 4. What was the first thing he saw in the house? 5. Describe the room in which the narrator was lying. 6. What language did the first woman speak? 7. What was different about the room when the protagonist woke up? 8. What was different about the woman? 9. Where had the womans husband found the protagonist? Interpreting 1. What senses did the protagonist perceive the surroundings through? 2. List the details in the second part of the story that point to the fact that the protagonist found himself in the past. 3. Why didnt the protagonist feel anything when he tried to reach for the womans hand? 4. Think of what happened to the protagonist in the second part. Was it only a dream? 5. Who was the younger woman? 6. Why did the protagonist say that all the questions had been answered? Extending 1. Explain the four if sentences in the second paragraph. 2. Think of one commonplace object a tray or a jug, for example, and try to imagine the impression it would make on someone who had no idea what it was. What possible uses might it suggest to such a person? C. Vocabulary Writers use vivid verbs to create dramatic pictures and a sense of motion. Lively verbs have punch, energy, and emotional colour. They allow the reader to perceive fully what is described. Throughout Pumlumon, the author uses such verbs that convey the special character of the actions they represent. For example, he writes, the wind and rain pounded against the building rather than hit against the building. Use the following verbs taken from the story to write a paragraph about the sea: flap, flutter, gnaw, rake, rattle, swirl. D. Grammar The Same Word as Different Parts of Speech There are many words in English that may be used as more than one part of speech. The hard thing about them is that they can be classified by part of speech only when you see them in sentences. Identify the same word used as different parts of speech in the sentences below and decide what part of speech it is.
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1. If he hadnt fallen and cracked his head on that boulder. 2. He called it a window but really it was no more than a cracked wooden shutter, rattling in a roughly-made frame as the wind and rain pounded against the building. 3. It seemed to take him hours to reach the house, his whole being fixed upon its stark image and the thought that no matter what, he must go on putting one slow-motion foot in front of the other until he reached it. 4. We thought we were losing you last night, young man. 5. Now something else touched the fringe of his dimming and confused senses, which for so long had known only darkness, cold, and the dull pain that lay heavily on his chest. 6. Then, slowly, he became aware of his own person: still, cold, and seemingly tightly bound to something. 7. Then, when he had exhausted himself, she smiled her deep warm smile, and allowed those blue eyes to look steadily into his for a long moment. 8. But no more talking now, Ill get you something that will warm the cockles of your heart. E. Composition 1. Rewrite the last part of the story with the younger woman as narrator. 2. When someone close to you is no longer near, you may suddenly remember many small things about that person that are dear to you. Write about the small, endearing qualities or habits of a special person you would remember if that person were far away.
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UNIT 4
Serpent of the Nile

by Raymond Humphreys Theyll be bringing him down here in a minute, Iras. Yes, My Queen. Our plans have all gone so horribly wrong. Is there really no hope for him? No .He fell on his dagger, in what they call the Roman way. He didnt die - that was the fault of that incompetent servant of his, Eros - but he is mortally wounded. Hes being brought here to the Mausoleum of Isis1 so that he can spend his last hour with you, before the devil Octavius catches up with him. Cleopatra stood in the middle of the darkened chamber, silent and bitter. The one man who had given her love, the Roman general Mark Antony, had fallen into a web of deceit of her own making, and now he was dying. And it had all been through her love for him She caught sight of her features in the Golden Globe of Isis standing in the middle of the chamber. Would Antony have spared her so much as a glance if he had gazed upon her face? Would she have been able to influence the affairs of the great Roman state if Pompey and Caesar before him had truly known her. No! But it was the wickedness of Charmian that had brought them to this. Charmian, the friend of her childhood, and later her trusted handmaiden. Charmian was a she-serpent. Thank Horus that Iras had been more faithful to her Queen. Queen Cleopatra, I hear them approach. Shall I turn down the lamp? Yes, Iras. Cleopatra sighed. Even now, now in his death hour, she had to hide her face from her lover, the father of her children. Some minutes passed before Eros appeared at the top of the stone steps. He was silhouetted like some vengeful demon. For a time he said nothing, then he shouted theatrically into the echoing mausoleum: I bring Marcus Antonius, Triumvir of Rome. Where is Cleopatra, false lover of my great Master? Eros, you always were a pompous fool. I am here, where I said I would be, hiding from Octavius, tomorrows ruler of Egypt as well as of your great Rome. He already calls himself the new Caesar. Have the guards bear my Antony down here to my side. Eros huffed and puffed, but bid the guards carry out Cleopatras request. Iras, will you leave us too? Antony and I must share this last precious moment. Iras bowed her head and left, looking back anxiously as she climbed the steps. Antony, do you have the strength to speak to your lover and queen? There was a cough from the shadowed couch which now dominated the chamber: Death is upon me, but I am not yet dead. Before the hour is gone this cradle shall be my bier. It is you, Cleopatra, who have brought death to me. Antony, it is not true! Cleopatra, word was brought to me of your suicide. When I heard of your death, my life was no longer mine. I sent Eros for my dagger so that I might do the only thing a Roman soldier could do. And then, when the life blood was already pouring from me, and the
1
Horus and Isis were the names of two of the principal Egyptian deities, brother and sister as well as husband and wife.
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physicians can do nothing, I learn that your death was feigned; just another courtesans deception. It was a deception, but not mine. How can you say this? My trusted servant Eros heard of your intended suicide from your own lips. Another of my followers, Ventidus, saw you put the poison to your lips and fall to the ground. He was not to know it was just Egyptian trickery, and hastened to Eros with the news. The effort of this speech brought on a gasping cough in the darkness. Antony did not hear Cleopatras whispered words: It was a deception, but not mine. It was the wickedness of the mother of Caesarion, 2 who turned against me, hoping to gain the favour of Octavius. She hoped to be rid of you - it was through ambition for her son. Antony - I trusted her too much. What do you say, Cleopatra? You talk in riddles. Have you brought me to this dark place to gloat over your triumph? Why do you darken the lamp? Why do you not let me see your face in this last hour, the beautiful face that has led me to the gates of hell? You do not wish to see my face, Antony. Cleopatra approached Antonys resting place and placed her cool white hands upon his fevered brow. She moved them slowly, sensuously, over him, then let her left breast rest upon him. Antony, think now of the hours when we have lain together in the darkness. Think of the love I have given to you. Think of the children who have been the fruit of that love. Marcus Antonius groaned, more from the pain that Cleopatras words gave than the dagger wound that was causing his life to ebb away: Put up the light, Cleopatra. Let me see your face one last time, and I shall forgive you anything, even though what you call love is sending me to Hades.3 Before I do, Antony. Let me say again: it was not my deception. It was that of Charmian. Charmian? I know of no woman by that name. You know her, Antony. You looked upon her beauty by day and knew her as Cleopatra. But by night it was I, Queen Cleopatra who loved you and bore you children. I dont understand... Many years ago, when my brother Ptolemeus ruled with me, and when Julius Caesar was the only Emperor of Rome, I knew that the only way to save Egypt was to seduce him. But I had not the beauty or womanly charms to do this. So I sent my handmaiden, Charmian, in my place, but with my name. The great Caesar was enslaved by her beauty, although I think my little trick of sending her wrapped in a Numidian rug helped things along. She stayed with him, and even had his son, Caesarion. Egypt was saved, until... Until? Until Caesar was struck down in the streets of Rome. Until you, Antony, took your share of the Empire and until ... until I saw you Antony. Cleopatras words were coming fast now, between sobs. Antony could not have asked the thousand questions that were forming on his lips, even if he had the strength: When I saw you, Antony, I wanted you for myself. I wanted you to rule with me as Pharaoh, but more than that I wanted you as my husband. But I had never dared to want a husband before, Antony, and I knew that a Great Triumvir of Rome would not want me. But I married you, Cleopatra. I divorced my wife Fulvia and married you. I even left Octavia, sister of Triumvir Octavius for your love.
2
Caesar and Cleopatras son. The name of the Roman Underworld or Hell.
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You went through a marriage ceremony with my handmaiden Charmian, Antony. It was she who was at your side when the crowds cheered you by day. But in the darkness of night, it was I who came to you as your wife. It was I who loved you, I who bore you children, even though you have never seen me by the light of day. Then it is you who I love, Cleopatra, not some handmaiden, no matter of what beauty. Cleopatra, I ask you again: put up the light. No Antony, you do not want that. It is my dying wish. Cleopatra leant over and brightened the lamp with her own hand. She brought her face nearer to its circle of light. Her drooping, purblind eye, her lop-sided mouth full of broken teeth, and the white scar that ran from her temple to her jaw were illuminated a foot from the dying Antonys face. * Iras waited until the chamber was silent before descending the stone steps. The scene was much as they had planned it. Antony lay there, dead and white. Cleopatra lay on the cold stone floor beside him, clutching the young asp to her bosom. The same asp that Iras had placed in the basket of figs and taken care to tell Cleopatra about. But the asp must have been too young, and its venom not strong enough. Cleopatra was not yet quite dead. Her good eye was glassy, but she was mouthing something. Iras leaned over her to catch the words. What does she say? What does she say, Iras? Nothing important, Charmian. She just keeps saying the same thing, over and over: He turned away. He turned away from me. END B. Answer the following questions. (This story is based on Roman and Egyptian history. Cleopatra VII was ruler of Egypt and was renowned for her physical charms. Julius Caesar became in fact, if not in title, the first Emperor of Rome after outmanoeuvring his fellowTriumvir (effectively Triumvirs were the three joint leaders of Rome) General, Pompey. He finally assassinated him in Egypt. Caesar took Cleopatra as his lover and she bore him a son, Caesarion. Caesar supported her in her rivalry for the throne of Egypt with her brother, Ptolemy. After Caesars assassination in Rome by patricians of Republican sentiment, Mark Antony and Octavius, together with Lepidus, formed a Triumvirate. Mark Antony became Cleopatras lover and she bore him three children. There was a rivalry between Octavius and Antony, ending in the latters defeat at the battle of Actium. After this, both Cleopatra and Mark Antony committed suicide and Octavius became Emperor as Caesar Augustus, though in fact initially his title was princeps, or First Citizen.) Recalling 1. How did Mark Antony get mortally wounded? 2. Explain how Cleopatra and Charmian deceived Antony. 3. Was Antony the only man that Cleopatra had played her trick on? 4. How did Cleopatra fake suicide? 5. What did she look like? 6. Who betrayed her? 7. Why didnt Cleopatra die the moment the asp bit her?
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Interpreting 1. Why did Eros call Cleopatra false lover of my great Master? 2. Did Cleopatra seduce Caesar for the same reason that she seduced Antony? 3. Does the name Eros have any relevance to the story? 4. Antony insisted on seeing Cleopatras face no matter of what beauty. Did beauty really mean nothing to him? 5. Antony turned away from Cleopatra, and she killed herself. Is this why she did it? 6. Are the words serpent and asp used here literally or figuratively? Extending 1. Supposing Iras kept a secret diary, what would she write about the events in Serpent of the Nile? 2. How does the old saying Appearances are deceiving apply to this story? 3. Imagine you are the only good-looking person in an ugly world. What problems would you encounter? C. Vocabulary Read each word and its definition. Then write a sentence using each word. 1. bier: a stand on which a corpse or coffin is placed ___________________________________________________________________________ 2. brow: forehead ___________________________________________________________________________ 3. drooping: hanging or inclining downward ___________________________________________________________________________ 4. gloat: to observe or think about something with triumphant and often malicious satisfaction ___________________________________________________________________________ 5. lop-sided: lacking in balance, symmetry, or proportion ___________________________________________________________________________ 6. purblind: partially blind ___________________________________________________________________________ D. Grammar Basically, dashes can serve four purposes: (a) to indicate sudden breaks in thought or mood and interruptions in dialogue, e.g. I know I can do it or can I? Bill said; (b) to set off a short appositive list, or summary, e.g. Her eyes or was it her hair completely dazzled me; (c) to set off parenthetical elements that are abrupt or that one wants to emphasise, e.g. We had a small breakfast nothing; (d) to set off parenthetical elements that already have commas in them, e.g. Georges car old, battered, rust-eaten finally collapsed irreparably. What purposes do the authors dashes serve in his story?
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E. Composition 1. Imagine that you have witnessed Cleopatra and Antonys final moments together and told an artist about them. The artist would like to paint the scene. Write a description that the artist could follow. 2. Imagine a new version of the story that takes place in modern times. Do not write the complete story, but describe, with a paragraph devoted to each, the modern versions of the following: (a) the setting; (b) the protagonists; (c) the choice to be made. 3. Write a paragraph about how you once left home on a very cold winter morning. Use specific words to make the scene come alive for the reader.
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UNIT 5
Nandy
by Raymond Humphreys 21 October, 2006, le dOlron, near Rochefort, France: Reuters reports a discovery that has all the anthropologists talking. It is of what appears to be a family group of male, female, and two young specimens of Homo Sapiens Neanderthalis. Through a quirk of temperature, natural air conditioning in what was obviously at one time a shallow cave system giving out to the wider world and, let it be said, sheer good fortune, the skeletal remains are said to be complete and in good condition. Preliminary indications are that the adult male has been particularly well preserved. Youre quiet, wife. This conversation actually took place by a means of thought transfer that we would call telepathy, but it is simplest to represent it and those that follow in the form of spoken words. I am thinking. You must be thinking very deeply, to shield your mind from your husband. You know of what I am thinking, all the same. I am concerned for our eldest two sons. I have closed my mind to yours because I have not wanted to worry you without reason. I know that this journey of discovery to the mainland across the sea marks the coming of our sons into manhood, and it is important to you as well as to them. It is something that is important to all the people of our tribe, and will be to our children, and to our childrens children. It is not every day that sees the arrival of a party of strangers from distant lands. This meeting will be the deepest honour to our sons. You should be proud of them. I am, but I am worried, too. What mother would not be? 4 November, 2006, le dOlron: Reuters reports that the remains of the family of Homo Sapiens Neanderthalis discovered a few weeks ago were apparently so well conserved because of a freak geological accident that took place about 25,000 years ago. This timing makes these creatures the latest specimens of Neanderthal Man to have been found anywhere. The large male has already been examined in some detail, and has been christened Nandy by the anthropologists. The specimen was taller than any others of the kind yet found, standing about 1.85m in height. It exhibited the typical stocky, upright stance and displayed the normal beetle-browed, chinless features of this sub-species. The examining scientists, however, were surprised by the estimated brain capacity of at least 2000cc. This is a great deal larger than would be expected. You are still worried, wife? Yes, and more than I was a few days ago. Our sons and the rest of the travelling party should have returned by now. It is some unexpected factor that has delayed them. They have some distance to travel overland once their boat crosses the sea. Do not worry. There is nothing to concern you. A mother knows these things. I cannot help feeling that they - the whole party - have found some dark things in the lands over the sea.
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Nonsense. Their minds are too far distant for you to have any kind of contact with them. I know what it is that is causing you to fret. You have been in communication with the other women of the tribe. You are starting to believe all those terrible stories about the strangers. They say that they are quick, aggressive little creatures that are spreading across the surface of all the lands. They say that they do not tend crops and spend their time in contemplation, but eat the meat of animals in a raw state and indulge in horrifying rituals. They say - Now you are going too far, wife. Any creatures that are spreading across the surface of all the lands as you put it, cannot behave in the way that you describe. You describe them as no more than ferocious animals - as worse than the tiger and the wolf. They will surely have discovered different secrets of contemplation from our own people. Think of it! This meeting with the folk who have come from so far away will be the greatest thing ever to have happened to our tribe. And our sons will be there. My heart swells with pride at this. So should yours. 18 November, 2006, le dOlron: Clearer details are now being received of this archaeological discovery, and Reuters can correct earlier reports. It seems that the skeleton of only the leading male is complete and well-preserved. This is apparently because it fell, or was thrown, into a deep natural crevice in the rocks where it could suffer no further damage. The remains of the others have been smashed and scattered in a way that makes reconstitution almost impossible. The large brain-size of the male is now being attributed to a congenital deformity. All attention is now on the discovery of what appear to be the remains of stone weapons at the site. These weapons are of similar design to other discoveries throughout Europe associated with Homo Sapiens Sapiens. It is early as yet to draw conclusions, but it seems inescapable that there is preserved here the scene of a violent conflict between these two sub-species of man. Homo Sapiens Sapiens, our ancestors, clearly had the better of this encounter. Any theory that Homo Sapiens Neanderthalis was quietly absorbed by the newlyarrived sub-species has been seriously called into question. It seems that the meeting of the two was savage and short, and that the more vigorous and clearly more intelligent modern man superseded the more heavily-built but slower-witted Neanderthal in the most dramatic way. I was wrong and you were right, wife. I know that now. Will you be able to forgive me? There is little to forgive. You, too, now feel the awful thing that happened to our eldest sons two days ago. And even our two little ones shiver with fear at the approach of the strangers to our home - look at them. We should seek shelter. I know of a cave nearby. Should we hide away from this danger? Why do you and the other men folk not tie stones to sticks in the fashion of the new arrivals and stand to face them? We would then be as wild and primitive as them. Better to reason with them, and make them see the error of their ways. They cannot long survive through this aggressive behaviour. They will fight and kill others of their own kind in time if they do not change their ways. The ways of contemplation are the true ways. They will understand that, if we combine our minds and reason with them. What if they do not listen to even our wisest minds? What if they are unable to hear us? What if they have some other way of communicating? There is a story, husband, that they
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contact each other through grunts in the air, like animals. That they do not truly communicate at all. Your imagination runs awry. No men can live in that way, let alone those who are said to have spread through all the lands in the way that they have. No, wife, we shall reason with them. They will understand. We shall go forward into tomorrow strengthened, each of our peoples by the other. This is a future to which we can look forward with hope. END B. Answer the following questions. Recalling 1. Where were the family group discovered? 2. How did the members of the Homo Sapiens Neanderthalis sub-species communicate among themselves? 3. How did the members of the Homo Sapiens Sapiens sub-species communicate among themselves? 4. What were anthropologists surprised by? 5. Why was the fathers skeleton the only one well-preserved? 6. Where did the couples eldest sons go? 7. What was the mother worried about? 8. Why did the father refuse to make weapons in order to defend his family? Interpreting 1. The last Reuters report ends like this: It seems that the more vigorous and clearly more intelligent modern man superseded the more heavily-built but slower-witted Neanderthal in the most dramatic way. Do you agree? Why? Why not? 2. Why was the father wrong about choosing the right means to confront the strangers? 3. The woman sounds more sensible than the man but the latter has it his way. Does that have anything to do with the fact that, when it comes to vital decisions, it is men that make them and not women? Extending 1. What message does Nandy imply about the way in which people should deal with conflicts? 2. How would humankind have evolved if Homo Sapiens Neanderthalis had managed to reason with Homo Sapiens Sapiens? 3. Have you ever experienced something you thought was telepathy? How do you account for it? C. Vocabulary Antonyms are words that have opposite or nearly opposite meanings. The words light and dark, for example, are antonyms. Rewrite the following sentences taken from the story substituting an antonym for the italicised word. 1. Through a quirk of temperature, natural air conditioning in what was obviously at one time a shallow cave system giving out to the wider world and, let it be said, sheer good fortune, the skeletal remains are said to be complete and in good condition.
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2. It exhibited the typical stocky, upright stance and displayed the normal beetle-browed, chinless features of this sub-species. 3. My heart swells with pride at this. 4. It seems that the skeleton of only the leading male is complete and well-preserved. D. Grammar When classified according to form or structure, sentences are divided into four groups: (a) simple, (b) complex, (c) compound, and (d) compound-complex. A simple sentence contains but one clause, i.e. one subject and one predicate. A complex sentence contains one independent clause plus one or more dependent clauses. A compound sentence contains two or more independent clauses that are linked together. A compound-complex sentence contains two or more independent clauses and one or more dependent clauses. Identify the four types of sentences in the paragraph below: We would then be as wild and primitive as them. Better to reason with them, and make them see the error of their ways. They cannot long survive through this aggressive behaviour. They will fight and kill others of their own kind in time if they do not change their ways. The ways of contemplation are the true ways. They will understand that, if we combine our minds and reason with them. E. Composition 1. Write a dialogue in which the familys eldest sons discuss what they see during their journey. 2. Write a fourth Reuters report. 3. Imagine that you are an archaeologist who has led an excavation of a site in your town. You believe the site should be listed in the National Register of Historic Places. Write a short report that describes what you found on the site. Tell why you believe that site is an important part of the town.
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UNIT 6
Wish Mans Wood

by Raymond Humphreys
Three, three, the Ri-i-i-vals! Two, two, the lily-white boys, Dressed up all in green-o-o- Or was it two for the rivals? He still wasnt sure, and anyway it was too late for that now. Tony picked his way carefully up the stony path that led away from the beach. It wasnt long before the only sign of his friends was the faint glow made in the night sky by the barbecue fire. Even the sound of their campfire singing was muffled by the roar of the breaking waves. He felt very much alone. One is one and all alone and ever more shall be so. He could remember that line well enough. It didnt seem a very fair way of picking someone to leave the barbecue early so as to light the fire back in the camp. Someone should get the billy-can boiling, his troop leader, Dennis, had suggested. Tony thought that was a good idea, and had said so enthusiastically. Until that someone had turned out to be Tony, that was. Why couldnt the scoutmaster have found some other way to choose someone? Just because he couldnt remember the words to a stupid song! And now there was nothing much else in his head but Victors story. The thought of that story grew stronger as he climbed up the path. It had all seemed like great fun the day before, when he and some of the other boys had been gathered around old Victor and his tractor. The sun had been shining then, and the boys were still hot with the thrill of having been allowed to drive the tractor. It had been Tony himself who had changed the mood by asking the question: Whats all that you were telling the scoutmaster about then, Victor? Something about the farm being haunted? Oh, tis nothing. Just an old story they like to tell in these parts. I promised that I wouldnt repeat it to you boys. Come on Victor. Dont be a spoilsport. We wont tell anyone youve said anything. Tell us the story. Were not little kids, you know. Victors dark eyes had glittered and his voice became low and confidential in tone as he spoke. The circle of boys had drawn in more tightly, as if to keep the secret from escaping. Well ... if you promises not to say anything. He looked around at his fellowconspirators, as if assessing their reliability before going on. Theres some that say there were a monastery here in Berrynarbor, hundreds of years ago now. It were built right there in the middle of that there field where youm boys got your tents. Here he nodded his head and fixed his eyes in the direction of the scouts campsite. Some of the boys, including Tony, found themselves turning their heads involuntarily behind them. It werent such a big monastery, continued Victor. But it were said to be important here in North Devon. When they werent a-praying and a-singing hymns, the monks used to grow apples for to make cider. That cider were so good that they had to send twelve barrels of it every year to the King in London.
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It were the cider that were the cause of all the trouble, really. The local Lord, or Baron or whatever he were, he said that the apple-orchard were rightly on his land, and so he were always on to the Abbot to give him half of the cider. But the Abbot wouldnt do that and said that the Baron was a wicked, shameful man. And it do seem like that were true, because one day when the Abbot was off on a visit or some pilgrimage to Canterbury1 - they used to do that back then yknow - the Baron found some way of poisoning the apples while they were still on the trees. They say it were done by some spell or enchantment. Anyways, soon after that the Abbot rode back to the monastery grounds after his journey to Canterbury. A couple of the monks had gone with him, and they were singin and a prayin that theyd all come back in time for the harvest. For the first windfall apples were just on the ground and twere the custom for the Abbot to taste one of them himself before the cider making could start. Well, even afore he went back into the monastery - he were a strivin man, see - he stopped and picked up an apple and took a bite out of it. Everything seemed all right at first. The Abbot smiled and nodded like, to show it were another good harvest. But then a look came over his face - a horrible look they say it were - and he fell over, twitching, like the very Devil had come into him through the apple. It werent long before he died. But before he did, he had a vision showing him that the Baron were to blame for all this. His very last words were to order the monks to cut down the appletrees, and to plant a copse of oak where the orchard had stood. Well, that they did, but the odd thing was the oak-trees never grew proper. They were always twisted and stunted. They called the copse Wish Mans Wood.2 Why, I dont know, but they say that the Baron fell ill when they started cutting down the apple trees and that he upped and died at the very moment that the first acorn were planted. The monastery was pulled down fifty or so years after that, but Wish Mans Wood is still there today. And the Abbot still walks in it, folks believe. They say that sometimes he comes down, apple in his hand, to look for his monastery. The grey monk they do call him. Oh, come off it Victor! Youre making it all up! This was Dennis, the oldest of the boys present, and something of a live wire. I bet nobodys ever seen him. I bet you havent, have you? No, Ive not seen him. They do say that anybody who sees him goes mad. His face is terrible to look at. Hes not like your Friar Tuck3 you know, all fat and jolly. The poison in that apple made him die a horrible death, and his face is gaunt and grey. And they say that he wont rest until he passes that apple on to someone. Like passing on a curse, sort of thing. Well. Tony felt a need to show a bravado beyond that given by the warmth of the summers day, and to support Dennis doubting words. Id never be frightened by that story.
1
Canterbury, near the south-eastern coast of England, is the seat of the Archbishop of Canterbury, the head of the Church of England. In 1170, the then Archbishop, Thomas Beckett was murdered in the Cathedral by three knights. They had been sent (perhaps erroneously) by King Henry II. He served penance for this, and thereafter the spot in the Cathedral became a shrine for pilgrims. Geoffrey Chaucers The Canterbury Tales, the bestknown example of Middle English literature, uses a pilgrimage as the setting for his stories. 2 Wish Man (or Wise Man, Wisht Man or Wise Man) is the Devil. The Wisht Hounds were a devilish pack of dogs that hunted on Dartmoor. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle tapped into this legend for his most famous Sherlock Holmes story, The Hound of the Baskervilles.
The renegade priest who was one of Robin Hoods men. Traditionally he was fat and jolly. Robin Hood, an outlaw and archer most usually associated with Sherwood Forest where he and his Merrie Men lived, is one of the two most important legendary characters in the UK. The other is King Arthur. He and his Knights of the Round Table were said to have lived some seven hundred years earlier in Cornwall or Wales.
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* But now, alone on the cliff-top path there was no sunlight or circle of friends to reassure him, and his youthful cynicism was no match for the fears brought on by the darkness. He was grateful indeed for the flashlight that the scoutmaster had given him, though he wished it didnt light up the gnarled and twisted trees in quite the way it did. Could this be the edge of Wish Mans Wood? Certainly the trees were stunted and ill-formed. Thank goodness the path only seemed to skirt around the edge of the copse. The blackness of the interior seemed solid and forbidding. It was even impenetrable to the powerful beam of his flashlight. A gentle breeze came up, bringing a chill to the air of the summer night. The branches of the trees danced and swayed in a way that Tony would not have expected them to do in such a light wind. Their leaves shimmered and rustled noisily. Tony imagined their voices whispering in his ear, voices that were taunting him with words that were somehow beyond the edge of his understanding. Then he thought that he heard his own name being called in a deeper, clearer note that sounded from within the shadows that marked the depths of the wood. And then, silence. The sudden and absolute quiet was even more disturbing than had been the eerie call of the trees, but somehow Tony summoned the last shreds of his courage and kept on walking. He could feel a choking dryness in his throat by the time he at last put the copse behind him, and was grateful to see the campsite not far below where he now stood. The moon was full and bright in the sky as it emerged from behind a dark cloud and here, away from the shadows of the trees, it lit up the path well. He hurried on, feeling greater relief with each step that took him away from the tortured shapes of what he was now convinced was Wish Mans Wood. Down at the campsite the wood was dry, and there was plenty of tinder so it wasnt long before Tony succeeded in getting a good fire going. As the flames rose higher the burning logs gave off a reassuring crackle, and the familiar smell of smoking wood soon filled his grateful nostrils. It was really quite pleasant to sit here alone and watch the small sparks spiralling skyward. His fears of just a short time ago were already starting to seem foolish. All the same, he was glad in the knowledge that his friends would soon return. He was even more pleased that there were good supplies of wood and water at hand, so he didnt need to think of leaving the security of the fireside to boil the billy-can. He was even considering toasting some bread over the flames. The others would appreciate that when they returned from the beach, even though theyd just come from a barbecue. But suddenly the moon passed behind some more cloud, and as it did so Tony became aware of a presence behind him, in the direction of the copse. All the details of Victors story, now made the more terrible by the thought of the unnatural place that lay behind him, were rekindled in his mind. He dared not look around. Instead he bolted into the tent and zipped down the door. Then he waited, hardly daring to breathe. The night was as silent as only a night in the country can be, and his ears were straining to hear anything at all. At last, after what seemed an age, Tony could hear the soft tread of footsteps outside. They were slowly, very slowly, coming in his direction. Then, with a terrified fascination, he watched as a figure slowly became darkly outlined on the firelit wall of the tent. It was that of a man, tall and thin. The lower part of the figure was not sharply visible, but the head was unmistakably cowled. For a long time it seemed to be looking down at the fire, but then it turned towards the tent. It was too much for Tony. He buried his head as deeply as he could in his arms, flung himself onto his sleeping bag, and waited for he knew not what.
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* Oi! Wake up, Tony. A hand was roughly shaking Tonys shoulder. He sat up, blinking slowly into the face of Dennis. Youre a fine one. You were supposed to boil the water for the tea. Some moments passed before Tony could answer. S-sorry. I fell asleep. I had an awful dream. He noticed for the first time that Dennis appeared tired and drawn, as if he was coming down with flu or something. Despite the way he felt himself, he wanted to say something that would cheer his troop-leader up. But I did put the billy-can on to boil. Yes, and youve nearly let it boil dry as well. There was no doubt about it. Dennis did look strained. Not like his usual cheery self at all. Oh, here, said Dennis, fumbling in his pocket for something. You have been careless tonight. You must have dropped this by the fire. Tony stared in disbelief at Dennis outstretched hand. It held a round, succulentlooking red apple. END B. Answer the following questions. Recalling 1. Where was the barbecue fire? 2. Why did Tony have to leave the barbecue? 3. Who was Victor? 4. What was the story he had told the scoutmaster about? 5. Whose was the orchard? 6. How did the Baron have the apples poisoned? 7. What was the custom in the monastery? 8. What kind of vision did the Abbot have before he died? 9. Who was the grey monk? Why was he called that? 10. Where did the voices Tony seemed to hear come from? 11. When did Tony become aware of a presence behind him? Interpreting 1. Why did they call it Wish Mans Wood? 2. At one time in the story Tony felt a need to show a bravado beyond that given by the warmth and light of the summers day. How did he show it? 3. Why did Tony leave the barbecue with Victors story in his head? 4. What made Tony think the copse was Wish Mans Wood? 5. Why did Dennis appear tired and drawn? 6. Was the apple part of a practical joke that the other boys had wanted to play on Tony or had it been left there by the Abbot? Or had it all been just a dream? Extending 1. What relevance does the line One is one and all alone and even more shall be so have for the story? 2. What is youthful cynicism? How do young people show it?
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3. Why do people always associate dark with fear? 4. Do you think that some places have curses on them? What examples of primitive magic that seems to work have you heard of? C. Vocabulary A dialect is a type of speech that differs from the standard form of a language; the difference occurs mostly in pronunciation but also in vocabulary and grammar. Authors use dialect to aid in characterisation and to give their stories a realistic historical or regional quality. In Britain, people speak many different dialects, some of which differ so much from Standard English that outsiders would probably not be able to understand them. In Wish Mans Wood, Victor speaks a North Devon dialect, which is common among people of the lower class. This dialect includes numerous lapses from standard grammar (such as using were for was) and archaic words (such as afore). Look at Victors lines and list all the differences you can find between his pronunciation and grammar and Standard English. D. Grammar Adverbial clauses show the connection between ideas that are not equally important. Like adverbs, adverbial clauses modify verbs, adjectives, and other adverbs. They explain how, why, when, where, under what conditions, or with what result something occurs. Since they always begin with a subordinating conjunction (after, although, as, because, before, if, in order that, since, so as to, so that, than, that, unless, until, when, where, while, etc.), they show how the main idea in a sentence is supported, developed, or caused by another idea. Notice how the author of Wish Mans Wood subordinates certain observations by using adverbial clauses. The thought of the story grew stronger as he climbed up the path. (The adverbial clause explains under what conditions the thought of the story grew in intensity.) The sudden and absolute quiet was even more disturbing than had been the eerie call of the trees (The adverbial clause compares the quiet of the copse with the call of the trees.) Identify the adverbial clause in the following sentences, and explain how each of them functions. 1. It didnt seem a very fair way of picking someone to leave the barbecue early so as to light the fire back in the camp. 2. It had all seemed like great fun the day before, when he and some of the other boys had been gathered around Victor and his tractor. 3. And it do seem like that were true, because one day when the Abbot was off on a visit or some pilgrimage to Canterbury, they used to do that back then yknow 4. Despite the way he felt himself, he wanted to say something that would cheer his troopleader up. E. Composition 1. Write a summary of Wish Mans Wood. Keep the summary as brief as possible, but be sure to include the most important developments. 2. Suppose that you were asked to make suggestions for a teleplay based on Wish Mans Wood. Write to the teleplay director suggesting ways to create it. Choose a location, the actors appropriate for each part, and music that will help create the mood.
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UNIT 7
Tolman the Dreamer

by Raymond Humphreys It is probably easiest to say that Tolmans story begins in a traditional enough way, in the kasbah1 of old Marrakech.2 Until this time, Tolman had led a very dull life. He took great care to be a good employee, a good family man, and a good neighbour. In short, he was a seldom-noticed but still important member of local society. But what none of them realised, not his colleagues in the insurance office, not his wife and children, not the committee of his local camera club, and certainly not the vicar of the St. Hughs where he was churchwarden, was that Tolman was also a dreamer. Perhaps people should have realised something when, forsaking the annual family camping holiday in the Dordogne, Tolman had come to North Africa on his own for a week, telling everyone that for once he was going to indulge his lifelong fascination with Maghrebel-Aksa,3 which he insisted retained the most authentic Arab culture in the world. So it was that on his last day in Morocco, as his friends and family insisted on calling it, that Tolman found himself enjoying the delightful experience of haggling in the market place with a wizened old Arab trader, who looked as if he could have walked straight out of any one of the stories of The Thousand and One Nights. Monsieur, if I give you this for less than one hundred dirhams4 I will be giving you the bread from the mouths of my poor children. Come on, now, Ive seen others like it for half the price. Ill give you sixty. You have not seen lamps like this one, Monsieur. It was given to me by the cousin of my wifes brother-in-law. His family were servants of the Sultan many years ago, in the time when our realm reached into the lands of the Infidel. It was true that Tolman had not seen a lamp quite like this one. It was dirty and even a little buckled in places, but its lines were graceful and it was just possible that the lamp was as old as the trader claimed. At all events, he ended up paying no less than ninety dirhams for the lamp, although perhaps he was given a little extra value for money by the theatrical way in which the old man handed the prize over: You are a dreamer, Monsieur. I look beyond your eyes and I see this. Use the lamp wisely. * The old traders words acted as some cantrip upon Tolman. Even on the flight back to Heathrow, the lamp seemed to call out to him from where it nestled in his hand luggage, and several times he found himself feeling for its graceful contours through the canvas, just to make sure it was still there. When he got home, he dutifully handed over the gifts of brass and leather to Bessie and the children, but the lamp he didnt mention. He stored it in his secret
1 2 3 4
The kasbah or casbah is the name for the Arabic quarter of a North African city. A city in Morocco, noted for its kasbah. The Arabic name for Morocco. The unit of currency in Morocco.
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place behind the wardrobe, as if it were a special prize. And of course, that is exactly what it was. Tuesday, the precious night Bessie went off to the meeting of the Townswomens Guild and the children were put through their paces at the local swimming club, was an age in coming. When his weekly hours of freedom at last arrived, Tolman felt a delicious thrill of guilty pleasure as he drew the heavy curtains, placed the best red tablecloth on the table, and lit a candle left over from Christmas. Then he carefully took the lamp from its wrapping of the silk scarf he had purloined from Bessie, and placed it on the table. For a long moment he admired the lamp in a purely aesthetic way, but soon the old Arabs words began to sing in his ears, and he knew what he would do next. Feeling slightly foolish, he picked up the lamp, and started to rub it gently with Bessies scarf. Nothing happened; at least there wasnt the sudden puff of smoke of legend, no booming voice calling him Master and offering to serve and obey him forever more. But as he continued to rub, the metal of the lamp took on a lustre surprisingly quickly, and soon he could see his own reflection. He held the lamp close to him; only to see what he saw was not his own reflection, but the visage of another. He almost dropped the lamp as the image suddenly smiled and spoke. Hello Mr. Tolman, and how are you today? Who are you? Why, you know very well who I am. Im the Djinn5 of the Lamp. What happens now? Well, youve freed me from my long imprisonment. Thank you very much. Its very good of you. You mean, thats it? Arent you supposed to bow down before me and grant me three wishes first? If that is what you really want. It does seem a little unnecessary. It was exactly what Tolman wanted. All his life had been dull. Here was his chance to make it all so very different. Now he had the power in his hands to be the Worlds greatest lover, its richest and most powerful man, a hero among heroes. He could be anyone, anyone at all. Right, in which order do you want your wishes? But I havent told you... You dont need to. Right, youll have them in the order that you thought them. Goodbye, and thank you very much Mr. Tolman. * He was aware of music, the sweetest, most scintillating music he had ever heard. No, rather he was a part of that music. It flowed through him and around him. It was his breath and his blood. Its rhythms and cadences were his own, and with each subtle movement he made, each new breath he took, the notes changed. He was making this music. It poured from within him, and he felt at ease with himself. He was as lithe, as vital and as potent as the music itself. A bead of sweat rolled down his face and on to his hand, which now he could see was dancing lightly upon the piano keyboard before him. He was not surprised to see that his hand was a rich sepia in hue, nor that its long fingers were picking out the keys as if they each had
5
A djinn or genie is a sprite or goblin in Arabic stories. These stories often concern the djinns imprisonment in a lamp and the granting of wishes to the discoverer.
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minds of their own. He was, he realised as his other hand shimmied down from the other side of the keyboard to duet with its partner, the greatest jazz pianist of all time. Slowly he acknowledged his environment, a smoke-filled, low-ceilinged room crowded with people. There was a bass playing behind him, and a wheezy saxophone over to his left, and he knew that the three of them were not so much playing together as talking together, celebrating the magic of their music and the magic of the moment. Now the bass took on a more strident tone, the sax blew higher and harder, and he felt a thrill within himself that was reflected in the outpouring of his notes. She had arrived He poured more of himself into his music, giving it a carnal edge that coursed back through his own body, arousing him even more than did the perfume of Marguerita, whom he sensed standing behind him. She stepped forward and leaned against his piano, waiting. He looked up at her as he played, taking in the sight that had inspired the notes he had just been playing. She was as desirable as ever, sparkling-eyed and creamy-bosomed. He played harder and finer, playing until the sax and bass fell away to a whisper of admiration. Through his music he told her that she must be his. Always before they had listened, and had succumbed to the twin abraxas6 of his music and his lust. But they were all just club girls; she was Malones woman. Even if in the last year or so Malone had tired of her a little and spent his time with younger girls, Tolman knew that he was playing a dangerous game. She smiled briefly at him and walked slowly across the floor. Hadnt she listened to his music? Didnt she scent his lust for her? For a moment his spirit fell, and he almost played a wrong note but, no, he could see that she was walking andante dulce,7 moving her body sensuously just for him and his music. She had heard his call to her, and she would be his. He didnt need the half smile that she gave him as she reached the doorway to Malones room to tell him this. After a minute or two, he nodded to the others to carry on playing, and walked quickly across the floor. There was only a handful of the early-evening punters sitting idly around, just a few uncaring eyes to watch his intrusion into the domain of the boss man. Im waiting for you, Tol. The husky voice of Marguerita called from the inner room. He paused for a moment, looking around at the desk strewn with papers, the evening suit hanging from its rail, the white scarf strewn carelessly across the back of a chair: Malones territory, Malones woman. He was risking his neck. Cmon honey. I want to see if what all the girls say about you is true. He had closed the door but could still hear the boys outside playing an easy rhythm on the sax and bass. He pushed his way through the door to the inner room, and there was Marguerita. She was half lying on the couch, one leg carelessly lifted to show an expanse of thigh. She said nothing, but her eyes called to him, promising everything. Now Tolman felt a strange kind of pride. So what if Malone was the big man, pushing everyone around and paying artists like himself a pittance? He knew that at this moment there was not a man in New Orleans who wouldnt trade places with him, not a man on Earth who wouldnt pay a million dollars for his gift with women. He sat down on the edge of the couch, smiled at Marguerita and lay a practised hand on her shoulder. He undid a few of the shoulder studs on her ritzy, low-cut dress, enjoying the sight and anticipation as a little more flesh was exposed to his view with each movement. He could take his time: Malone wouldnt be in for a couple of hours yet. He listened for the music
6 7
A charm or spell. A musical term. Like most musical terms it is in Italian and means slow and sweet.
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outside; it was always better for him if there was music playing. But outside it had fallen suddenly and strangely silent. Something was wrong. He waited. He didnt have to wait for long. Malones outer door burst open, and Duke and Marty were there. Marguerite started up, hands ludicrously trying to cover her bosom. Tolman knew the game was up. Boss said to keep an eye on you, boy, said Duke. Duke wasnt Malones number one for nothing. Looks like this was why. Its not what you think, Duke. I was just helping - Looks to me that you was helping yourself, just like you always does. We aint got time to waste breath on you, trash. Let him have it, Marty. Tolman saw Martys lips move, saw Margueritas mouth open in a scream, but heard nothing. There was a flash from the other side of the room, a smell of burning, and a hot feeling in his chest. Then the room seemed to spin slowly, so slowly. It was as if he was watching it all on a screen: Margueritas hysterics, Martys dumb look, and Duke shouting at them both. He watched with detached interest the low coffee table coming up to meet him and then realised that, no, he was falling toward it. He noticed something bright and shiny, brasscoloured on the table. It seemed familiar. After that, blackness. * The room was large and brightly lit. It had an expensive feel to it. From where he was he couldnt see the whole of it, but he seemed to be at its focal point. He looked down at his hands, pink and wrinkled, as they lay on the highly polished walnut desk in front of him. He was aware that everyone in the room was waiting for him to speak. Well, they could wait. Mr .Tolman, sir? The voice belonged to a tall, eager-faced young man who stood directly in front of him. He shot a withering glance in his direction, telling him that he would not be hurried. The young man visibly flinched, and one or two of those around him stole a cautious glance at the victim. Tolman looked at the faces of the others. Closest to him was a trim young woman in a white uniform of some kind. Next to her was an overweight, balding man in a tweed suit. Then came the young man, and beside him a woman who might have been his female equivalent. She would have been attractive if shed allowed herself a smile, but Tolman could see that this was not something that would come easily to her. There were just two others in the room, standing over to his right, a little apart from the rest. The first was a dapper man in grey-suited middle age, whose light blue eyes looked at him more boldly than those of the rest. The other was a glum looking woman in her thirties, who looked determinedly down at the shorthand pad she held in front of her. As he turned his head to look over at this pair, he felt a sharp twinge in his neck. Tolman understood that he knew all of them, and yet could not recall one of their names, nor be sure what he or they were supposed to be doing in this room. Still less could he answer the question that hung in the air above this strange tableau. James needs to know whether hes to give the go-ahead to Universal Press, Mr. Tolman. It was the blue eyed man who broke the silence. I say when. We make them sweat for a while first, Tolman answered, not knowing where the words came from. But the thrill of power that surged through him as he uttered those words was something that he did know. It all came back to him at that moment: the sharpness of his mind, the storehouse of facts and figures at his fingertips, the knowledge that all the people in this room and thousands more outside of it were waiting on his every word.
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Prime Minister on line three, Mr. Tolman. Will you speak to him now or later? The glum woman had picked up one of the flashing telephones and held the handset deferentially. Tell him that Ill be down to see him at Chequers tonight. Its not something I want to talk about over the phone. I need to call in a favour. And James, you can get on to Universal at three oclock, not a minute before. Ill sign the papers for the Zeraphim Organisation takeover and whatever else youve got there first. Then while we have a few minutes you can ring for the Ambassadors gift to be brought in. I havent even had a chance to so much as glance at it yet. The young man came forward with a sheaf of documents. Tolman flipped through them and applied his barely-legible signature to each one. As he did so he was conscious that every stroke of his pen would affect the lives of thousands of people, sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. In every case it would mean more money piling up in his bank accounts, but it wasnt that that made him feel good. It was the sheer power, the thrill of control. The lackeys here in this room couldnt even begin to understand that. They were content with the crumbs from his table. He laughed, a bubbling, gurgling laugh that for some reason hurt his chest. Lackeys! One of them was trying to say something now, but his hearing was oddly out-of-focus so he looked up at her, his look giving an unspoken command to repeat what she was saying. Im sorry Mr. Tolman. I was just reminding you that it was time for your tablets. Tablets! Hed tried to keep the thought at the back of his mind. He turned his head to watch the fat, tweed-suited Dr. Bingham pass over a number of small glass bottles to his nurse, who counted some out, quickly and efficiently, into the little silver dish on the edge of his desk. His own movement, slight as it was, sent a searing pain down his neck and shoulder, and he was reminded of the wheelchair that confined him. What an irony: every one of the ninnies in this room enjoyed better health than him. Mr Tolman? The Ambassadors gift. Its some kind of antique lamp from his own country. Its not very clean, though. Would you like me to - Mr. Tolman? Through blurring vision Tolman could see the Doctor running around to his side of the desk. Other people in the room were shouting and milling about, but their voices sounded far off to him. The only person who was still was young James, who held the lamp out before him, looking even more foolish than usual. The lamp seemed to grow to fill his whole field of vision, then to dissolve into a blur of rapidly-fading colour. Then there was nothingness. * His tongue recoiled at the wet, gritty taste in his mouth, and a foul, dank smell thrust itself into his nostrils. His head ached and his shoulders felt as if theyd been beaten with an iron bar. Private Tolman? The voice sounded far off as it echoed through his mind. Slowly he forced his eyes open. He found himself face down in some cold, greasy substance which with difficulty he recognised as mud. Tolman? Can you hear me? The voice was that of Captain Smith. He turned his head, feeling the ooze wet against his cheek. Thank goodness, Tolman. I thought you were a goner. That shell was close. Look, my legs gone. Can you move? Tolman tried to regain possession of his own body, moving first his fingertips, then his arms and legs. He found that he could raise himself to his hands and knees. It hurt, but in an aching, ill-defined way. There seemed to be nothing broken or missing. Im OK, I think, he said.
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He looked back at the Captain, who lay on his back at the bottom of the shell hole, half submerged in muddy water. It took him a long time to slip and scramble down to where the officer lay. His limbs were numb and cold, his movements uncoordinated. Weve been here for hours, said the Captain. I didnt think that you were going to wake up. Look, Ive managed to stop my leg bleeding with a tourniquet, but Im not going to be able to move. Do you think you can get back for a stretcher party? No stretcher party is ever going to get out here. Too near to Fritzs front lines. Its up to us, Captain. It took Tolman fully an hour to haul Smith out of the shell hole. Smith could only push ineffectually with one hand, and the effort of dragging their combined weight left Tolman feeling weak and pain-wracked. When they had finally scrambled out of the hole, and lay exhausted in the churned mud, Tolman discovered the reason for his weakness. There was a dark red stain on his tunic, near his midriff. The sudden discovery of his own wound sent a lance of fear into his breast, but he said nothing to Smith. The journey across no-mans land was a grim pantomime, Tolman gritting his teeth against a pain that was getting more specific and intense with every few yards gained, Smith wincing and coughing as he tried to aid Tolman to haul him along. More than once Tolman felt unsure that they were travelling in the right direction. Were they moving toward the German lines rather than their own? More than once he felt the he was going to black out with the pain, but they kept going. They could do nothing else except lie there and die. Suddenly there was an explosion somewhere behind them, and then another. The shelling had started again. Its no use, Private - you go on without me. Youll never make it dragging me along like this. Tolman wasnt listening to Smiths latest protest. He was listening to the shells whistling overhead. The German gunners were finding their range and beginning to land their shells on the British lines ahead of them. At least they were going in the right direction. After that, everything became a blur of noise and pain, and when Tolman first saw the stretcher-bearers coming toward them, he couldnt believe his eyes. But no, there they were, coming in their direction at a crouching run, taking advantage of a lull in the firing. Weve made it. Captain, weve made it. Tolman said the words without excitement. This wasnt just because of his pain and weakness. The Captains expression had become frozen, his eyes staring. He was breathing in short rasps. Sir? Dont give up now. Look, the bearers are coming. Well soon both be in the field hospital. Tolman ... weve failed ... Ive failed. Ive dropped the camera back there. Its all been for nothing. Im sorry ... Tolman made up his mind quickly. Their mission had been to photograph gun emplacements. Until a shell had fallen too near to them, they had done well. The knowledge they had acquired would save lives tomorrow, when the main assault was to be made. But the camera was useless lying in mud somewhere between here and that shell hole. No longer encumbered with the weight of Captain Smith, Tolman made fair progress at first, even though his own weakness restricted his own movements to a kind of slithering crawl through the morass. But slowly, inexorably, he became more aware of the burning feeling in his midriff, less aware of the greasy mud beneath him, less aware even of the shells whistling overhead. Soon he felt himself to be little more than a knot of pain surrounded by weakly flailing limbs. His movements became a jerking, slow-motion dance as he consciously told first an arm, then a leg, to move itself forward. He knew that he needed to get to where he was going while there was still daylight, and kept one eye on the watery sun as it followed its downward
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path. What he could no longer quite remember was where he was going, or why he was going there. Then, just as the sun began to touch its pale redness upon the bleak horizon, he found himself looking down into a shell hole. He was here to meet his destiny. His eyes were sore and sticky and his vision blurred as he scanned the muddy sides of the shell hole. He knew that what he sought was important, vitally important. At first he could see only mud and water. But then, as the suns rays reached out to the place where he lay, in their dying flourish they momentarily illuminated something bright and shiny, something out of place in this hell of slime and ooze. He knew that this was what he sought; he knew that his very survival depended upon his ability to reach it. He tried to pull his body towards it with the last of his strength, and felt himself move forward no more than an inch. His world closed in upon him until all that was left was his pain and this object, half buried in the mud, tantalisingly beyond his reach. But he knew that he had to grasp it, to take it in his hands and use its special power. He knew that, somehow, he had to regain the lamp of reality. END B. Answer the following questions. Recalling 1. Where did Tolman buy the lamp? 2. When did he use it? 3. What were his three wishes? 4. Briefly describe the way in which each of Tolmans wishes seemed to be granted. 5. Why couldnt he go all the way with Marguerita? 6. What couldnt he remember about his subordinates in the second episode? 7. What was the most powerful man in the world confined to? 8. Where was Private Tolman? 9. What had his mission been? Interpreting 1. Tolman was the greatest jazz pianist of all time. Was he also the Worlds greatest lover? 2. Tolman was the richest and most powerful man in the world. Did he enjoy it to the full? 3. Tolman was a hero among heroes. Did he enjoy it to the full? 4. The three episodes in Tolmans wishful life end in a similar way. What does that have to do with the lamp of reality? 5. Could Tolman have thought of his wishes more carefully in order to prevent any possible misfortune? If so, how? If not, why not? Extending 1. What kind of things do people wish for? 2. Some people say the worst thing that can happen to you is to have your wishes come true. Do you agree? 3. Imagine that you have been presented with an object which supposedly has the power to grant you three wishes, but that you may pay a price for having them granted. Would you use the object? Would you believe the warning?
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C. Vocabulary Any language that is not intended to be interpreted in a strict literal sense is figurative language. Authors use it to make their meaning clearer, stir the readers imagination, and consequently make their writing more enjoyable. The main form of figurative language in fiction is metaphor. It draws a comparison between two basically different things, stating that one thing actually is another. For example: The journey across no-mans land was a grim pantomime Simile is another type of figurative language. It is easier to recognise than metaphors because it does have a special language to set it off: like, as, as if, than, such as, and other words that make an explicit comparison. For example: The old traders words acted as some cantrip upon Tolman. Personification is that type of figurative language in which human traits are given to something that is not human. For example: The sudden discovery of his own wound sent a lance of fear into his breast, but he said nothing to James. Identify the metaphors, similes, and personifications in the paragraph from Tolman the Dreamer below: A bead of sweat rolled down his face and on to his hand, which now he could see was dancing lightly upon the piano keyboard before him. He was not surprised to see that his hand was a rich sepia in hue, nor that its long fingers were picking out the keys as if they each had minds of their own. He was, he realised as his other hand shimmied down from the other side of the keyboard to duet with its partner, the greatest jazz pianist of all time. D. Grammar Well-chosen modifiers clarify the meaning of a word or sentence by providing details that describe, making the word or sentence more specific. Authors do not rely on adjectives alone; they use a variety of modifying structures to reflect with greater accuracy the complexity of their thoughts. Essential clauses supply necessary information about a word in a sentence. Without this information, the meaning of the sentence might not be clear. For example: Then he carefully took the lamp from its wrapping of the silk scarf he had purloined from Bessie, and placed it on the table. Non-essential clauses also supply information about a word in a sentence. This information, however, can be omitted without making the sentence more general or substantially changing its meaning. Non-essential clauses are set off by commas. For example: He poured more of himself into his music, giving it a carnal edge that coursed back through his own body, arousing him even more than did the perfume of Marguerita, whom he sensed standing behind him. Find at least three essential clauses and three non-essential clauses in the text. E. Composition 1. Imagine that you are Tolman. Write a letter to a friend of yours explaining why it would be dangerous to ask for any wishes. 2. Write a short magic lamp story of your own.
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UNIT 1 UNIT 2 UNIT 3 UNIT 4 UNIT 5 UNIT 6 UNIT 7

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

3. Stolen, and tempered with slightly, yes, but still genuine.

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

stolen: tampered with: slightly: genuine:

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

Serpent of the Nile

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

Wish Mans Wood

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

Tolman the Dreamer

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

A semantic, lexical and grammatical approach to a literary text

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