Е. Є. Мінцис
О. В. Карбашевська
Ю. Б. Мінцис

A COMMONSENSE GUIDE TO
ANALYTICAL READING AND TEXT INTERPRETATION

МІНІСТЕРСТВО ОСВІТИ І НАУКИ УКРАЇНИ
ПРИКАРПАТСЬКИЙ НАЦІОНАЛЬНИЙ УНІВЕРСИТЕТ
ІМЕНІ ВАСИЛЯ СТЕФАНИКА

Е. Є. Мінцис
О. В. Карбашевська
Ю. Б. Мінцис

A COMMONSENSE GUIDE TO
ANALYTICAL READING AND TEXT INTERPRETATION

Навчально-методичний посібник із аналітичного читання та інтерпретації тексту для студентів третього курсу англійського відділення стаціонарної та заочної форми навчання

Івано-Франківськ
2009

УДК
ББК 81.2 Англ.-
М- 62
К- 21 Мінцис Е. Є., Карбашевська О. В., Мінцис Ю. Б. A Commonsense Guide to Analytical Reading and Text Interpretation. Навчально-методичний посібник із аналітичного читання та інтерпретації тексту. – Івано-Франківськ, 2009. – с.

Друкується за ухвалою Вченої ради факультету іноземних мов Прикарпатського національного університету Імені Василя Стефаника (протокол № 9 від 26 червня 2008 року)

Укладачі: Мінцис Е. Є., старший викладач кафедри англійської філології факультету іноземних мов Прикарпатського національного університету імені Василя Стефаника Карбашевська О.В., аспірант кафедри світової літератури Прикарпатського національного університету імені Василя Стефаника Мінцис Ю. Б., аспірант кафедри англійської філології факультету іноземних мов Прикарпатського національного університету імені Василя Стефаника

Рецензенти: О. Я. Остапович кандидат філологічних наук,доцент кафедри німецької філологі, заступник декана факультету іноземних мов Прикарпатського національного університету імені Василя Стефаника Я. В. Бистров кандидат філологічних наук,доцент, завкафедри англійської філології факультету іноземних мов Прикарпатського національного університету імені Василя Стефаника

Посібник складено відповідно до програмових вимог для студентів-філологів 3 курсу англійського відділення і являє собою систему вправ і завдань для лабораторних занять із основної іноземної мови. Розділи посібника розташовані у логічній послідовності. Насамперед, підібраний матеріал акцентує увагу студентів на початковому розумінні та розпізнанні найбільш уживаних тропів, приклади яких наводяться із художніх та публіцистичних творів британських і американських авторів. Система вправ та детальна схема інтерпретації художнього тексту, уривки оригінальних текстів і завдання до них підводять студентів до комплексного аналізу тексту та його аналітичного прочитання. Посібник розроблено з метою збагачення змісту та підвищення якості філологічної підготовки студентів з англійської мови як фахової дисципліни у вищих навчальних закладах. Запропонований посібник можна використовувати для студентів німецького та французького відділення, які вивчають англійську як другу мову, на факультетах підвищення кваліфікації вчителів, а також на факультативних заняттях.

©Мінцис Е. Є., 2009 ©Мінцис Ю. Б., 2009 ©Карбашевська О. В., 2009

CONTENTS

Unit I. Scheme of Text Analysis.

Unit II. Rhetorical Devices Activities

Unit III. Tasks for Text Interpretation and Analytical Reading: The Wrong Suitcase Importance of Being Earnest

Supplement

References

UNIT I
SCHEME OF TEXT ANALYSIS
1. What do you know about the author and his place in English/American literature (the author is a prominent, well-known, popular writer).
2. Historical and social background of the novel (the action takes place in ..., the events described in the book… text/story is connected with ..., the author paints a true and lively picture of ...).
3. The connotation of the title of the story (the story is entitled ... because it tells us about...).
4. The theme of the text (It is a description of..., the text shows us...).
5. The message of the text (the message of the text may be presented like this..., the text teaches the reader ...).
6. Brief summary of the text (let me give you a brief summary of the text).
7. What does the passage under study present : a) the passage under study presents a piece of narration (it describes the events ... and people who take part in them) b) the passage under study presents a description (it’s a vivid description of nature, big city, small village, etc.) c) the passage under study presents a character-drawing (the author is very good at describing peoples’ inner world, thoughts, emotions, behaviour) d) the text under study presents portraiture which is combined with character-drawing (the author describes the appearance and traits of character of ...) e) the text under study presents a dialogue (the author is a great master of dialogues/ we can see that ... is a good person because ...) f) the text under study presents an amalgamation of several components (we can see pieces of character drawing and description, dialogue, etc.)
8. The text can be divided into several logical parts: the first one tells us about..., the second part of the text presents..., the third part deals with...)
9. The climax of the story (I believe that the highest point of interest is the episode when …, this episode is the climax of the story because the story reaches its highest degree of tension here).
10. The tone of the story: - the story is written in a humorous, dramatic, ironical ... tone; one can’t help smiling when one reads about ...; one can’t help sympathizing ... when one reads ... - the author doesn’t laugh at his heroes, he smiles together with ... - the story is full of funny episodes, for example ... - the story is written in a satirical tone, the irony of the author is bitter, he criticizes weak points of human nature, the faults of the society, poverty, cruelty, stupidity and other negative psychological and social phenomena - the story is written in a lyrical tone – one can’t help admiring the beautiful descriptions of nature, of people’s relations ... - the story is written in a matter-of-fact, unemotional tone, the author hates to be sentimental, but his matter-of-fact manner adds much to the dramatic effect of the text ... - the story is written in a dramatic tone; the events are a great drama of life of the main heroes
11. The author’s method of portraying the main characters: - the author presents his hero directly; he tells us that he or she is stupid/ clever/ kind etc. - the author presents his heroes indirectly, through their actions, thoughts, feelings, emotions, words, attitude to other people; ... said that ... - I like the character because ...
12. Syntactical and lexical expressive means: - the text is vivid, lively, interesting, because the author uses a number of expressive means - they are of great stylistic value - they make the text more interesting to read, they make the readers feel that they are in the middle of the events
13. Thematic groups: - one can compile several thematic groups on the basis of this text, for example, such words as … can be combined into the thematic group of ... - the thematic group of ... includes such words as ...

UNIT II
RHETORICAL DEVICES
SIMILE
is a figure of speech which draws a comparison between two different things in one or more aspects; introduced by like, as, as … as, better than, as if, as though
1. In the corner of the room where the ceiling sloped nearly to the floor, all the stuffed animals and dolls she’d ever owned were standing wide-eyed in rows by height, like some bizarre crowd in the bleachers at a high-school event. (S. M.,
p. 8)
2. And then, when they were five, along came Sadie. Planned for, adored by us all, pliable, sweet, she sat like a small Caucasian Buddha in our midst. (S.M., p. 16)
3. Our office was in one of the tiny malls that had sprung up everywhere around these old towns as quickly as mushroom patches after rain. (S.M., p. 24)
4. I liked the ease these people had with each other. In particular I liked Dana, her generosity, the warm attentiveness that I felt like a bright light on me. (S.M., p. 39)
5. She was wearing dark eye makeup, like kohl, all around her eyes. They looked, as my mother used to say, like two burned holes in a blanket. (S.M., p. 131)
6. They were sitting at the table, with the overhead light on. It looked like a painting, framed by the kitchen doors. (S.M., p. 151)
7. To Lucy’s eyes he still looked as big as a grizzly bear. (F.M., p. 173)
8. Jake and Wylie watched her intently, like two precocious squirrels whose gazes were fixed on a pile of nuts. (F.M., p. 277)
9. I wouldn’t think twice about crushing you like a cockroach. (I.J., p. 47)
10. Today I could see just a few boats coming back – looking to me, as they always did, like water bugs kicking along the surface. (A.G., p. 13)
11. And even more than the journals her love poems sliced into him like scalpels and tore his heart out. (D.S., p. 12)
12. As he stepped into the front hall and set his bags down, he could hear a clock ticking in the living room. The sound cut through him like a knife, and felt like a heartbeat. (D.S., p. 32)
13. It was quite an introduction to sailing. And he had taken to it like a duck to water. (D.S., p. 114)
14. She was surprised to see that he looked so pleasant; she had expected him to look like a fox: sharp-featured, mean pointed little face. He looked normal and nice. (M.B., p. 27)
15. A woman with beady eyes and a tongue that shot in and out like a snake’s tongue. Delivering harsh, critical words every time. (M.B., p. 157)
16. The wind was howling like a wounded animal. (M.B., p. 178)
17. In his hand he had an onion … as large as a ninety-eight-cent alarm clock. (O.H., p. 57)

METAPHOR is the transference of the name of one object to another based on their similarity
1. They’ll fire you for making jokes in the visitors’ book if Percy puts the right word in the right ear. And he can. You know he can. (S.K, p. 83)
2. She went on and on, words falling over each other in excitement. (M.B., p. 78)
3. “Is that clear? Is it?” She demanded, stabbing her words at me like tiny daggers when I would reply. (V.C.A, p. 207)
4. “Your wife looks stunning tonight. Her gown is a poem.”
“What do you mean, poem?” replied the struggling author. “That gown is two poems and a short story.”
5. I loved science, but I could tell it cut me off from the world I wanted to be in. (S.M., p. 171)
6. He laughed sharply, and then his face fell into bitter lines. (S.M., p. 175)
7. This marriage is dead, and it has been for a long time. It’s time to bury it. It died years ago. And I’m no longer willing to die with it. (D.S., p. 397)
8. I can’t believe how much I’ve missed my boys this year. But it’s their job to try their wings, and ours to let them fly away. (D.S., p. 144)
9. She wasn’t a child, she was an adult, and she was using nuclear weapons to destroy her mother. Alex had given them to her, but she hadn’t hesitated to use them. It broke Faith’s heart to think about the damage she would do. (D.S., p. 323)
10. Her hatred for him flooded her eyes, washed over her face. He saw it and flinched. (B.T.B., p. 83)

PERSONIFICATION is a variety of metaphor based on ascribing such human qualities as behaviour, thought and action to inanimate objects
1. In the older girls’ rooms the beds were made, the junk was gone – boxed in the attic or thrown away for ever. Only Sadie’s room still spoke of her. (S.M., p. 8)
2. Fatherhood descended heavily upon his shoulders. Lance despised children. He tolerated Ashley Nicole only because she belonged to Trudy. (J.G., p. 227)
3. There were so many rumors racing up and down the Coast. (J.G., p. 228)
4. The fax was cheap and featureless, and declared itself to be out of order.
(J.G., p. 10)
5. “I fight like hell to solve one riddle, and ten more mysteries hit me in the face. Why can’t you tell me everything?” (J.G., p. 389)
6. The ugly gray clouds gathered outside her window told her that within the hour, it would go from overcast to wet. (A.K., p. 6)
7. After that, maybe he’d stroll around a little, reacquaint himself with this amazing city – a city that somehow still held him in its grasp. (A.K., p. 60)
8. But four prominent lawyers had been arrested that morning, and the gossip was bouncing along the hallway at full throttle. (J.G., p. 422)

EPITHET is a figure of speech, a word or phrase emphasizing some quality of a person, thing, idea or phenomenon and express the author’s attitude to them
1. In his hand he had an onion – a pink, smooth, solid, shining onion …
(O.H., p. 57)
2. The room was small, but it had windows on two sides. One looked out over the driveway, the other across the street to the similarly exhausted-looking houses there. (S.M., p. 41)
3. Beth couldn’t claim to share her brother’s and sister’s gentle natures. She had always been fiery, self-sufficient, and hard-hearted too. (L.P., p. 70)
4. She was affectionate, loving, very good-looking, emotional … (A.C., p. 117)
5. The man was a lecturer in history and wrote poems on Sundays, and he had a pudding of a wife who thought she knew everything. (F.S.F., p. 166)
6. Simon and Roger were grinning furtively, a kind of “well-you-can’t-blame-him” expression. (L.P., p. 418)
7. “Are you okay?” She sounded worried about him, and he smiled. She was everything Pam wasn’t. She was gentle, sensitive, cautious, thoughtful, generous of spirit, and nurturing in every possible way. (D.S., p. 198)
8. Laura nodded, watched her grandmother walk out of the library, so erect, a miracle of a woman, really. (B.T.B., p. 243)
9. Mary Hanson was a doll of a woman; small, beautiful, exquisitely made. (S.S., p. 27)
10. He was a little gnome of a man with bright blue eyes and tufts of black hair sticking out of his cheeks. (S.S., p. 71)
11. “I’ve done a lot of dumb, stupid, mean, selfish things in my life, Jack. This might turn out to be the first decent thing I’ve ever done. (D.S., p. 80)
12. Simon and Roger were grinning furtively, a kind of “well-you-can’t-blame-him” expression. (L.P., p. 418)
13. His wife was a bird of a woman, all flutter and twitter. (S.S., p. 50)

OXYMORON is a figure of contrast, a combination of words which are semantically incompatible
1. He was strong and getting stronger. He smiled to himself. What a wonderful tragedy! (J.G., p. 248)
2. “You brave coward,” he said. (E.O’B., p. 13)
3. “You’re always so fair to everyone. Pathologically decent and kind. That’s a nice thing to be.” (D.S., p. 278)
4. “Life’s been chaotic. As I predicted.” “A nice chaos, though as I imagine it.” (S.M., p. 190)
5. There was a deafening silence in the room, and Jack turned away from him with tears pouring down his cheeks. (D.S., p. 80)
6. Victoria inhaled sharply, staring at the picture. For a timeless minute she battled a drowning sensation as a deluge of memories washed over her in great untamed waves. (A.K., p. 28)

METONYMY is a stylistic device based on a real-life association between the object named and the object implied
1. It was cool and sunny, and the sidewalk bustled with lunch traffic. The shoulders and heads moved quickly by. (J.G., p. 151)
2. He had plenty of ears at home is he had come there. (M.B., p. 493)
3. Two young uniforms showed up first. One stayed with the body. And the other two took a superficial report from me. (J.K., p. 302)
4. But then Tony Z came up to me again. I was resting by the waitress station. My tables were happy. (S.M., p. 35)
5. The house generally rose late through those summer months – no one but Sara had normal working hours. (S.M., p. 43)
6. The police had taken various things of her – the photo of Duncan’s girl-friend, a few of her small, strange bronzes, clothing, personal items. (S.M., p. 84)
7. The door next to the jury box opened and brown uniforms poured into the courtroom. (J.G., p. 176)
8. The raised lettering and numerals on the license plates were traced by flashlight, and at 3:30 a.m. Trudy received the phone call that made her a widow. (J.G., p. 154)
9. The case was simply too big to hand over to the locals. Cameras were arriving at the moment. (J.G., p. 62)
10. Hesitation allows the issue to fester. The press grabs it, creates a controversy before the action, and certainly throws gasoline on the fire. (J.G., p. 441)
11. The brisk voice belonged to one of the white caps. (A.K., p. 36)

ANTONOMASIA is a stylistic device presenting the so-called “speaking name” which aim at depicting certain traits of human character: moral and psychological features, peculiarities of behaviour, outlook, etc.
1. Figuratively (let us say) some people are Bosoms, some are Hands, some are Heads, some are Muscles, some are Feet, some are Backs for burdens. Hetty was a Shoulder. Hers was a sharp shoulder; but all her life people had laid their heads upon it and had left there all or half their troubles. (O.H., p. 55)
2. He’s two years older than I am, and he was always the star in the family. Tommy the Wonderful. Tommy the Fantastic. Tommy who did so great at school. (D.S., 30)
3. …I waved over a waiter. Asian kid, around nineteen, with a waist-length ponytail and ten stud earrings rimming the outer cartilage of his left ear. It hurt to look at him and I stared at the table as Jean ordered an insalata something or other. I asked for linguine marinara and an iced tea. Ruined Ear cme back quickly with the drink and a refill of her coffee. (J.K., p. 259)
4. “Mr. Cigar.” She kept her voice low. “He’s outside. Across the street.” (A.K.,
p. 159)
5. “But you’ve always called everyone by their first name, haven’t you? I mean, grown-ups.” “Not around here, Mom. Not professors. Everyone is Dr. This or Professor That.” (S.M., p. 16)

HYPERBOLE is a deliberate exaggeration not to be literally understood
1. Michael wondered for the fiftieth time was his jacket a bit sissyish. It had looked fine in Dublin. (M.B., p. 621)
2. They stopped being a group somehow. They hardly saw Jacinta and Liam now, and as he had feared Grace was a million miles further away now that she was just across the river. (M.B., p. 622)
3. Loretto’s eyes were like dinner plates as he walked past her and up the stairs to Rachel Fine. (M.B., p. 514)
4. For a moment Dara hesitated. Jack Coyne had been definite. Then she shook herself. It was ludicrous. Mrs Fine looked a hundred. (M.B., p. 522)
5. The kitchen looked as if a bomb had hit it. (M.B., p. 252)
6. “I’m so sorry it happened if you knew.” “I know. Most people do know. Aren’t you moving heaven and earth to get her better?” The doctor’s voice sounded kind. (M.B., p. 257)
7. He remembered how pleased Kate had been with the game of Scrabble. He wished he had thought of it, with a pain that almost tore him in two. (M.B., p. 294)
8. Kate had never snored although she claimed that John would raise the roof unless she nudged him and pinched him to change his position in bed. (M.B., p. 233)
9. And to Rachel Fine … he told more truth than to anyone. He told her that at times he thought he would blow up into a million pieces with frustration over it all. (M.B., p. 183)
10. Still, this time machine reminds me of the old Ford I had in those days: you could be sure that it would start eventually, but you never knew if a turn of the key would be enough to fire the motor, or if you were going to have to get out and crank until your arm practically fell off. (S.K., p. 7)
11. He looked like he could have snapped the chains that held him as easily as you might snap the ribbons on a Christmas present. (S.K., p. 25)
12. This whole disaster was moving with the speed of sound, and if nothing else, she wanted to slow it down. (D.S., p. 265)
13. He had broken her heart with a thong. She felt like she’d been hit by a bus. (D.S., p. 245)
14. “What are you doing here?” The smile they exchanged could have lit up the entire church. (D.S., p. 29)
15. She twirled, saw Cutter, and gave him a look that would melt cheese. (J.G., p. 53)

ALLUSION is reference to something presumably known to the reader from history, literature, mythology, Bible, etc.
1. “Guy Talbot?” I cried. This was one of our friends, a real mope. “But he’s such a gloomy Gus, Cassie. He’s like a character out of Dostoyevsky. He is always in some kind of agony.” (S.M., p. 152)
2. She looked like a Degas ballerina, with her green eyes, and her long straight blond hair, which she had knotted into a sleek bun. (D.S., p. 1)
3. “How bad is the damage?” “I’m not sure yet. It looks pretty nasty. The house is leaking like a sieve, and I’ve got Niagara Falls in my kitchen.” She looked frightened and worried. (D.S., p. 46)
4. I felt like Typhoid Mary, a Jonah. If I boarded a ship, it would sink; if I got on a train or a plane, it would crash. Maybe, if I ever reached Heaven, the angels would lose their melodious voices. (V.C.A., p. 363)
5. “Miss Rivers coordinates everyone’s schedule to make that possible. And she’s on call twenty-four hours a day.” “A regular Florence Nightingale,” Zach muttered. (A.K., p. 341)
6. “You’re going to need every minute between now and then to learn the skills you lack – from breaking into locked rooms to making it look like you haven’t. This isn’t James Bond. It’s for real. And it’s dangerous.” (A.K., p. 347)

ZEUGMA is a stylistic device in which the basic word stands in the same grammatical but different semantic relations to a couple of adjacent words. The basic word combined with the first adjacent word forms a phraseological unit. The same basic word combined with the second adjacent word forms a free word-combination
1. He sat talking about her illness about you all. That’s what I gave him in those months, just a chair, a whiskey, and an ear for his troubles.” (M.B., p. 493)
2. When he smiled, she felt decidedly relieved. He’d apparently left his anger upstairs with his wet clothes. (D.S., p. 120)
3. In front of me rose the squat Maiden’s Tower, surrounded by legends and tourist guides. (K.S., p. 8)
4. After a while and a drink he crept nervously to the door of the parlour.
5. Their clothes were mended as well as their bruises, their tempers and their hopes.
6. The truth was he had been lying quiet, out of sight and out of mind, in a very dark corner for a long while.
7. Bilbo was sitting on the brink altogether flummoxed and at the end of his way and his wits.
8. Gleaming hair of the elfish folk was twined with many flowers; green and white gems glinted on their collars and their belts; and their faces and their songs were filled with mirth.
9. Pilots in a long-ago war called it comin’ in on a wing and a prayer.
10. She was going to need more than rosary beads now. She was going to need a cool head, and maybe a good lawyer. (D.S., p. 250)
11. “You make it sound so easy.” “No, it’s easier than I make it sound. Just takes a little cash and some imagination.” (J.G., p. 338)
12. He showered and dressed, and found his way down to the kitchen, where Leah sat in the breakfast nook with fresh coffee and a surprisingly alert face. (J.G.,
p. 319)
13. He had simply vanished on Saturday, February 8, leaving behind a miserable marriage and lots of bills. (J.G., p. 160)
14. His influence, along with her impressive resume, striking looks, and fluent English made finding a top job with a top firm a quick chore. (J.G., p. 14)
15. In less than thirty minutes, half the city knew Patrick was about to make an appearance and a deal, and most likely walk. (J.G., p. 450)
16. “The last time I saw Pepper he was jogging away with a smile on his face and a stuffed backpack slung over his shoulder. (J.G., p. 389)

IRONY is a figure of quality in which the speaker intentionally breaks the principle of sincerity of speech. Ironically used words acquire meanings opposite to their primary lexical meanings
1. Duncan had flown to the West Coast on a red-eye special to spend the holidays with his girlfriend, Larry had gone to Marlborough Street with all the enthusiasm of someone about to have a lethal injection. (S.M., p. 70)
2. “Beg your pardon,” said Hetty, as sweetly as her acid tones permitted, “but did you find that onion on the stairs?” (O.H., p. 58)
3. “The entire state of California is coming to dinner in black tie in two hours. I can hardly wait. It’s so intimate and meaningful. Really kind of touches your heart to see a hundred near-strangers stampeding through your living room, shoving hors d’oeuvres down their throats and guzzling champagne. It really reminds you of true meaning of Christmas.” (D.S., p. 218)
4. Believe that the aim of life is to have a nice time, go to nice places and meet nice people. (Now: to have a nice time means to have two more drinks daily than you can carry; nice places are the halls of great hotels, intimate little clubs, night clubs and private houses with large radiograms and no bookshelves; nice people are those who say silly things in good English – nasty people are those who drop clever remarks as well as their aitches.) (G.M., p. 58)

PARALLELISM is a syntactic stylistic device which consists in producing two or more syntactic structures according to the same syntactic pattern
1. Maybe she was a bit plump, but her complexion glowed, her eyes sparkled and her hair shone. (L.P., p. 122)
2. I’ve got friends here now. We’re ground-down, chewed-up and spat-out people here. I feel right at home. (L.P., p. 81)
3. The wetlands were vast and limitless, rich and abundant. (J.G., p. 257)
4. As for me, I went back to E Block to start another day. There was paperwork to be read and written, there were floors to be mopped, there were meals to be served, a duty roster to be made out for the following week, there were a hundred details to be seen to. But mostly there was waiting – in prison there’s always plenty of that, so much it never gets done. Waiting for Eduard Delacroix to walk the Green Mile, waiting for William Wharton to arrive with his curled lip and Billy the Kid tattoo, and, most of all, waiting for Percy Wetmore to be gone out of my life. (S.K., p. 72)
5. They explained sights as they saw them, named animals as they passed them, talked about tribes who lived in the bush along the road. (D.S., p. 350)
6. She could hear the front door open and close. There was no other sound, no footstep on the hall carpet, no shout of “hello” as he walked in. He always came in that way. (D.S., p. 1)
7. The way you get meaning into your life is to devote yourself to loving others, devote yourself to your community around you, and devote yourself to creating something that gives you purpose and meaning. (M.A., p. 43)
8. Blindly, we found our way back to our lodgings, through the crowds which were seething around the Tower and shouting the news to one another that the whore had been beheaded, that the poor lady had been martyred, that the wife had been sacrificed, all the different versions that Anne had carried in one ill-lived life. (P.G., p. 201)
9. Anne at Richmond was queen in all but name. She had new apartments, which were adjacent to the king’s, she had ladies in waiting, she had a dozen new gowns, she had jewels, she had a couple of hunters to ride out with the king, she sat with him when his counsellors discussed the matters of the country with him, she had her own chair at his side. (P.G., p. 222)
10. In the afternoon there would be a diversion: a play or a talk, some dancing or a masque. We all had parts to play, we all had costumes to wear, we all had to be as merry as we could be, for the king was always laughing this winter and the queen never stopped smiling. (P.G., p. 68)
11. The warmer weather brought the sparkle back. It was wonderful not to be cold all the time, to be able to work in the garden, to go out in the fields and woods, to watch the sun going down over the hills in the long light evenings. (L.P., p. 431)

REPETITION is reiteration of one or more words within a certain stretch of the text for a certain stylistic purpose
1. If she’d missed a flight, she would’ve called by now. If she’d been stopped by customs again, she would have called by now. Any problems with passports, visas, tickets, and she would’ve called by now. (J.G., p. 34)
2. Her mother hated gardening, but a Japanese man came twice a week to cut things, mow the tiny patch of lawn and keep it tidy. More than anything, her mother hated disorder, she hated noise, she hated dirt, she hated lies, she hated dogs, and more than all of it, Gabriella had reason to suspect, she hated children. (D.S., p. 439)
3. For Lobo – a dog of vast appetite, lavish loves and violent hates – made it certain that acquaintance would ripen into friendship, friendship into obsession, and obsession into madness. (MK.K., p. 8)
4. She was being bored this summer, bored by Fernscourt and the games they played, bored by having to go home and dress up for the concert. Bored by being neither one thing nor the other. (M.B., p. 9)
5. “I need no-one,” she said flatly. “The king is wholly mine. I have his heart, I have his desire, and I am carrying his son. I need no-one.” (P. G., p. 366)
6. She grew whiter and whiter. The shadows under her eyes went darker and darker and she started to use powder to hide the hollows under her eyes. (P.G., p. 232)
7. The cameras showed Judge Sarah Hughes administering the oath to Lyndon Johnson, as Jacqueline Kennedy stood beside him, and everyone watching suddenly realized that she was wearing the same pink suit, the suit she had worn when he was killed, the suit that was still covered with his blood. (D.S., p. 17)
8. The sun was well up by then, and the streets were almost steaming, and there was still the same pervasive smell of fuel and flowers and fruit everywhere, the same smoke that seemed to hang low over them, and the same red earth that made you want to reach out and press it through your fingers … the same beggars, the same orphans, the same wounded and maimed. The same country she had come to love so much, she could no longer leave it. (D.S., p. 304)
9. They stopped at the bank, and Darby left with fifteen thousand in cash. Carrying the money scared her. Linney scared her. White and Blazevich suddenly scared her. (J.G., p. 339)
10. “What would you do if you knew you were supposed to be dead, and the people trying to kill you have had assassinated two Supreme Court Justices, and knocked off a simple law professor, and they have billions of dollars which they obviously don’t mind using to kill with? What would you do, Gavin?” (J.G., p. 148)
11. Her patient was as she’d left him, on his side, sleeping. Sleeping was what she called it … (A.F., p. 85)

INVERSION is a syntactic device based on a deliberate changing word order of the initial sentence pattern
1. Snooty she might be, but she was no snob. (L.P., p. 15)
2. Before us stretched a vast concave plain covered with snow. (E. S., p. 189)
3. Eight years after her father’s death, both galleries were strong and equally successful. (D.S., p. 16)
4. At her core she was still French. (D.S., p. 17)
5. On her last night she went to a Christmas party given by friends. (D.S., p. 72)

ACTIVITIES I. OXYMORONS

An oxymoron is a figure of speech in which two incongruous, contradictory terms are combined, like the phrase “good grief”. In fact, the word oxymoron is an oxymoron because its two Greek roots are of opposite meaning – oxys “sharp”; and moron “foolish”.

Here is a list of 10 oxymora. See how many you can match to make the correct phrases.

|Old |Opposition |
|Pretty |Unseen |
|Civil |News |
|Small |War |
|Deafening |Secret |
|Industrial |Vacation |
|Sight |Fortune |
|Working |Park |
|Open |Ugly |
|Loyal |Silence |
| |(ETF 32) |

II. SIMILE (EXTENDED COMPARISON)

SAMPLE SIMILE: Love – Wind Love is like the wind because it comes and goes as it pleases. Sometimes it comes when you least expect it. Sometimes it blows hard and sometimes not at all. It makes you cold; it makes you hot. But when love betrays you, it’s like the wind of a tornado that destroys all you cherish.

CHOOSE ONE OF THE COMPARISONS GIVEN BELOW AND WRITE A SIMILE. HAVE AT LEAST THREE SIMILARITIES BETWEEN THEM.

|Love – Shoes |Life – River |Studying–Mountain Climbing |
|Love – Flower |Life – Clock |Studying – Race |
|Love – Rain |Life – Train | |
|Love – Chair | | |

MAKE UP YOUR OWN EXAMPLES OF SIMILES: ( O. S. ) III. METAPHORS 1. A metaphor moves one step further than a simile. A metaphor, unlike a simile, does not use “like” or “as” to make a comparison. Instead, a metaphor takes the form of a direct statement. Turn the following examples of metaphors into similes:

He is a snake. – He is l… She was peaches and cream. – All the world’s a stage. – The night has a thousand eyes. – Love is a bridge. – Winter has a white coat. –

Write some original metaphors to complete each of these.

|1. Happiness is |2. Loneliness is |
|------------------------------------------------------------------------|------------------------------------------------------------------------|
|-------------------------------------------- |-------------------------------------------- |
|3. Fear is |4. Embarrassment is |
|------------------------------------------------------------------------|------------------------------------------------------------------------|
|-------------------------------------------- |-------------------------------------------- |
|5. Love is |6. Courage is |
|------------------------------------------------------------------------|------------------------------------------------------------------------|
|-------------------------------------------- |-------------------------------------------- |

|[pic] |

(O. S.)

2. Many words have both a literal meaning and figurative or metaphorical meaning. The main meaning of a word is a literal one. Metaphors are words whose sense differs from the major one. In English thousands of words are used as metaphors not only in prose and poetry but also in everyday speech. For example: • The literal meaning of the noun “root” is the part of a plant or tree that grows under the ground and gets water from the soil. As a metaphor “root” is used to denote the cause of a problem, moreover a way out of this situation is rather difficult. • The literal meaning of the verb “to swallow” is to cause or allow food or drink to go down the throat. It has two different metaphorical meanings: 1) to believe sth too easily (приймати на віру): e.g. I swallowed his story. 2) to hide an insult, etc in a calm way or without protesting, i.e. to hide emotions (стерпіти, стримувати, приборкувати): e.g. The deputies are being asked to swallow their national pride. (Э. Д.)

TASK: Read, translate the following jokes and identify words or phrases used both in their literal and metaphorical meaning.

|1) |“Do you sing and play much?” a young man asked the pretty girl who was carelessly thrumming the keys of the piano. |
| |“Only to kill time,” she replied. |
| |“You’ve got a fine weapon. I must admit,” ventured the young man. |
| | |
| |“I understand that the boss’s son started at the foot of the ladder and worked up.” |
|2) |“Oh, yeh! But the ladder was stepped on an upper floor.” |
| | |
| |Evangelist – “Don’t you want to come and labour in the Lord’s vine-yard?” |
| |Ole – “No. Ay got fine job with Yon Yonson already.” |
|3) | |
| |“You’re a pretty sharp boy, Tommy.” |
| |“Well, I ought to be. Pa takes me into his room and strops me three or four times a week.” |
|4) | |
| |Jane – “Would you be insulted if that good looking stranger offered you some champagne?” |
| |Joan – “Yes, but I’d probably swallow the insult.” |
| | |
|5) |The baby sardine saw its first submarine, and went swimming in terror to its mother. “Don’t be frightened, darling,” she reassured|
| |him, “it’s only a can of people.” |
| |(Г. П.) |
| | |
|6) | |

IV. MIXED FIGURES OF SPEECH

1. Match each word or phrase in the first column with the word or phrase in the second column.

|Lighter |[pic] |as a doornail |
|Heart | |as a beaver |
|Cool | |as a fruitcake |
|White | |than air |
|Avoid | |as a pig |
|Water | |as a cucumber |
|Selling | |like the plague |
|Nutty | |as a bird |
|Busy | |of gold |
|Cold | |under the bridge |
|Dead | |as a bone |
|Dry | |as ice |
|Fat | |as a sheet |
|Free | |like hot cakes |
| | | |

2. RIDDLE METAPHORS

1. In the night a mountain, in the morning a meadow. What is it? 2. The more you take, the more you leave behind. What are they? 3. What can you cut with a knife and never see a mark? 4. What is the best eavesdropper? 5. What asks no questions but receives a lot of answers? 6. What gets wetter the more it dries? 7. What grows bigger the more you take from it? 8. I saw a nutcracker up in a tree. What was it? 9. What goes up but never comes down? 10. If you feed it, it will live. If you give it water, it will die. What is it? (ETF 37) TASK: RECALL RIDDLES YOU KNOW AND MAKE UP YOUR OWN RIDDLES.

UNIT III

Tasks for Text Interpretation and Analytical Reading

The Wrong Suitcase by Maeve Binchy

Annie checked in early. She had come out to the airport in plenty of time. None of this was going to be a hassle. Once she had taken her boarding card and seen the smart new case trundle off with its little tag telling it to go to London Heathrow, she sighed with relief; it was all happening now, nothing could stop it. She was going to have the luxury of really looking at the things in the duty-free shop for once, and maybe trying out a few of the perfumes on her wrist. She might even look at cameras and watches--not buy, but look.

Alan was late; he was always late checking in. But he had such a nice smile and looked so genuinely apologetic, nobody seemed to mind. They told him to go straight to the departure gate, and he did--well, more or less. They couldn''t expect him to go through that duty-free without buying a bottle of vodka, could they? He had no sign of fuss or confusion; he slipped onto the plane last, but somebody had to come in last. He settled himself easily into his seat in executive class. With the ease of the frequent traveler, he had stowed his briefcase and vodka neatly above, fastened his safety belt in a way that the air hostess could see it was fastened, and he had opened his copy of Time. Another business trip begun.

Annie smiled with relief when she saw her case on the carousel at London Airport; she always half expected it to be left behind, like she expected the Special Branch men to call her in and ask her business in England and the Customs men to rip the case apart looking for concealed heroin. She was of a fearful nature, but she knew that and said it wasn''t a bad way to be because it led to so many nice surprises when these things didn''t happen. She took her case and went unscathed through Customs. She followed the signs for the Underground and got onto a train that she thought must be like a lift in the United Nations building: There were people of every nationality under the sun, and all of their suitcases had different little tags. She closed her eyes happily as the train rushed into London.

Alan reached out easily and took his case as it was about to pass by. He helped a family who couldn''t cope with all their cases arriving at once. One by one he swung them off the conveyor belt, and when he took one that wasn''t theirs he just swung it easily back again with no fuss. The woman gave him a very grateful smile. Alan had a way of looking better than other people''s husbands. He bought an Evening Standard in the paper shop and settled himself into a taxi. He had already asked the taxi driver if he could have a receipt at the end of the journey; some of them could be grumpy, always better to say what you want at the start and say it pleasantly. Alan''s motto. Alan''s secret of success. It was sunset; he looked out briefly at the motorways and the houses with their neat gardens away in the distance. It was nice to be back in London where you didn''t know everyone and everyone didn''t know you.

The train took Annie to Gloucester Road, and she walked with a quick and happy step to the hotel, where she had stayed many times. The new suitcase was light to carry; it had been expensive, but what the hell--it would last forever. It was so nice, she had bought two of those little suitcase initials and stuck them on. "A.G." At first she wondered if this was a dead giveaway, wouldn''t people know that they weren''t married if they had different initials? But he had laughed at her and patted her nose, telling her that she was a funny little thing and had a fearful nature. And Annie Grant had agreed and remembered that most people didn''t give a damn about that sort of thing nowadays. Most people.

The taxi took Alan to Knightsbridge and the hotel, where they remembered him or pretended to. He always said his name first, just in case. "Of course, Mr. Green," the porter said with a smile. "Good to have you with us again." Alan folded the receipt from the taxi driver into his wallet and followed the porter to the desk; his room reservation was in order. He made an elegant and flattering remark to the receptionist, which left her patting her hair with pleasure and wondering why the nice ones like Mr. Green didn''t ask you out and the yucky ones slobbered all over you. Alan went up to his room and took a bottle of tonic from the minibar. He noticed it wasn''t slimline, so he put it back and took soda. Alan was careful about everything.

Annie opened her case in the small hotel bedroom where she would spend one night. She would hang up her dresses to make sure the creases fell out. She would have a bath and use all those nice lotions and bath oils so that they didn''t look brand new tomorrow. The key turned and she lifted the lid. There were no dresses and no shoes. Neither the two new nighties nor the very smart toilet bag with its unfamiliar Guerlain products were in the case. There were files and boxes and men''s shirts and men''s underpants and socks, and more files. Her heart gave several sharp sideways jumps, each one hurting her breastbone. It had happened as she always knew it would happen one day. She had got the wrong case. She looked in terror and there were her initials; somebody else called AG had taken her case. "Oh my God," wept Annie Grant, "oh God, why did you let this happen to me? Why? I''m not that bad, God. I''m not hurting anyone else." Her tears fell into the suitcase.

Alan opened his case automatically. He would set his papers out on the large table and hang up his suits. Marie always packed perfectly; he had shown her how at an early stage. Poor Marie had once thought you just bundled things in any old how, but, he had explained reasonably, what was the point of her ironing all those shirts so beautifully if they weren''t to come out looking as immaculate as they went in? He looked at the top layer of the case in disbelief. Dresses, underwear--female underwear neatly folded. Shoes in plastic bags, a flashy-looking sponge bag with some goo from a chemist in it. God almighty, he had taken the wrong case. But he couldn''t have. It had his initials: A.G. He had been thinking that he must get better ones, these were a bit ordinary. God damn and blast it, why hadn''t he got them at the time? For a wild moment he wondered if this was some kind of joke of Marie''s; she had been very brooding recently and wanting to come on business trips with him. Could she have packed a case for herself? But that was nonsense; these weren''t Marie''s things, these belonged to a stranger. Shit, Alan Green said aloud to himself over and over again. What timing. What perfectly bloody timing to lose his case on this of all trips.

It took Annie a tearful seventy minutes on the telephone and many efforts on the part of the airline and of the hotel to prevent her from going out to the airport before she realized that she would have to wait until the next morning. Soothing people in the hotel and in the airline said that it would certainly be returned the following day. She had only discovered an office address for Mr. Bloody Green, typed neatly and taped inside the lid of the case. An office long closed by now.

Tomorrow, the voices said, as if that was any help. Tomorrow he would have arrived expecting her to be in fine form and to have her things with her. They were going to go for a week''s motoring holiday, the first time she was going to have him totally to herself. He was flying in from New York and would hire a car at Heathrow; he had told his boss the negotiations would take longer, he had told his wife . . . Who knew or cared what he had told his wife? But he would not be best pleased to spend the first day of their holiday in endless negotiations at the airport looking for her things. Was there no way she could find out where this idiot lived? If she phoned his home, even maybe his wife could tell her where he was staying. That was if his wife knew. If wives ever knew.

It took Alan five minutes to find the right person, the person who told them that there was no right person at this time of night, but to explain the machinery of the morrow. Yes, fine for those who hadn''t arranged a breakfast meeting at seven-thirty a.m., before the shops were open, before he could get a clean shirt. And what was the point of a breakfast meeting without his papers? God rot this stupid woman with her cellophane bags and her tissue paper and her never-worn clothes. Her photograph album, for heaven''s sake, and pages and pages of notes, a play of some sort. Hard-to-decipher writing, page after bloody page of it. But there was one page where it revealed the address of Miss Prissy A. Grant, whoever she was, and he was sure she was a Miss, not a Mrs. A letter addressed to her had "Ms." on it, but Alan had always noted that this was what single, not married, women called themselves. Unfortunately it had no address, or he could have sent for an Irish telephone directory and found her mother and father and got the hotel that their daughter was staying at. That''s if she had told them. Nutty kind of girls who carry photograph albums, unworn clothes, and plays written in small cramped writing probably told their families nothing.

The man who ran the small hotel near Gloucester Road was upset for nice Miss Grant, who often came to spend a night before she went on her long trips to the Continent; she was a teacher, a very polite person always. He took her a pot of tea and some tomato sandwiches in her room. She cried and thanked him as if he had pulled her onto a life raft.

"Look through his things. You might discover where he is staying," he advised. Annie was doubtful. Still, as she ate the tomato sandwiches and drained the pot of tea she spread all the papers out on the small bed and read. She read of the plans that Mr. A. Green had been building up over the last two years. Plans which meant that by tomorrow he should be able to take over an agency for himself. If things went the way he hoped.

Mr. A. Green would return to Dublin at the head of his own company. The arguments were so persuasive that the overseas client would be very foolish not to accept A. Green''s offer. There were photocopies of letters marked "For Your Eyes Only" . . . there were files with heavy underlining in thick felt pen, "Do not take to Office." A great deal of the correspondence was organized so that it showed A. Green''s present employers, the people who were paying for this trip to London, in a very poor light. Annie sighed; she supposed that this was the world of business. At school you didn''t go plotting against the geography mistress or getting the headmaster to lose confidence in the art teacher. But it seemed a bit sneaky.

Sometimes there were copies of letters his boss was shown pinned to those he had not been shown. It was masterly filing, and if you read the whole anthology, which up to now had presumably been for Alan Green''s eyes only, it made a convincing case. Annie decided that A. Green was a bastard and he deserved to have lost his case and his deal. She hoped he would never find either. But then how would she get back what was hers? And God almighty, suppose he had read her diary.

Alan Green decided to hell with it, he couldn''t bear the flat taste of the soda. He opened a calorie-packed tonic water from his minibar and decided that he would do this thing methodically. Look on it as a business problem. Right. He had left his name with the airline, if she called. Of course she would call. Stupid girl, why had she not called already? Stupid A. Grant. She was probably in a wine bar with an equally stupid teacher talking about plays and how to write them in longhand at great length and maximum stupidity. What kind of play was it, anyway? He began to read it. He read of her romance. . . . It wasn''t a play, it was the real thing. This was a diary. It was more than a diary, it was a plan of campaign. It was dozens of different scenarios that could take place on this holiday.

There was the scene where he said he couldn''t see her anymore, that his wife had given him an ultimatum. This creepy A. Grant had written out her lines for that one, several times over. Sometimes they were casual and see-if-I-care. Sometimes they were filled with passion, or threats: she would kill herself, let him wait. She had written the whole thing out as if it were a play, even with stage directions.

Alan decided that A. Grant was a raving lunatic and that whoever the poor guy she was going to meet was, he deserved to be warned about her.

He felt glad that she had lost this insane checklist of emotional dramas and how to play them; he was glad that all her finery had gone astray and that she would have to meet the guy as she was. He realized that she had probably done some kind of repair job and washed her tights and whatever just as he had washed the collar and cuffs of his shirt and the soles of his socks. Then he remembered with a lurch that she might have read his dossier on the company.

Annie suddenly remembered she hadn''t told the man in the airport where she was staying. She had been too upset. Suppose Mr. Conniving Green had rung in with his whereabouts; they wouldn''t have been able to contact her. She telephoned them again. Had Mr. Green called? He had. This was his number. He answered on the second ring. He would come right around with her case. No, please, gentleman''s privilege. Very simple mistake, must be a million AGs in the world. He''d come right away.

He held the taxi. She was quite pretty, he saw to his surprise, soft and fluffy. He sort of remembered seeing her at London Airport and thinking that if she was in the taxi queue he might suggest they share. Remembering the revelations of her diary, he shuddered with relief at his escape. She was surprised to see that he looked so pleasant; she had expected him to look like a fox: sharp-featured, mean pointed little face. He looked normal and nice. She thought she remembered him on the plane up in executive class laughing with the air hostess.

"I have your case here," she said. "It''s a bit disarrayed, for want of a better word. I was hunting in it to see if I could find out where you were staying."

"Yours is a little disarrayed too." He grinned. "But none of those nice garments you have fitted me, so they''re all safe and sound."

They grinned at each other almost affectionately.

He looked at her for a moment. It was only eleven o''clock at night; in London that meant the evening was only starting. She was quite lovely in a round soft sort of way. . . .

She wished he didn''t have to go. Maybe if she said something about why not go and let''s have a bottle of wine to celebrate the found suitcases . . .

She remembered how he had described his boss as bordering on senility and how he had given chapter and verse to prove that the boss was a heavy drinker.

He remembered how she had proposed threatened suicide with attendant letters to some guy''s wife, his children and his colleagues.

They shook hands, and at exactly the same moment they said to each other that they hadn''t read each other''s papers or anything, and at that moment they both knew that they had.
THE WRONG SUITCASE
(by Maeve Binchy)

I. Translate the following vocabulary items, learn them and use them, speaking on the text:

to sigh with relief to have the luxury of doing something to settle oneself into the seat to fasten the safety belt to cope with something grumpy just in case to fall out (about creases) to look brand new to look in disbelief to plot against sb. to go astray to answer on the second ring

II. Find another way of saying the following:

1) it wasn’t slimline
2) to explain the machinery of the morrow
3) whereabouts

III. Questions for discussion:

1. Describe Annie’s and Alan’s state of mind before and at the beginning of the trip.
2. How did their spirits change after they had opened the suitcases?
3. What names did they give each other? What is their connotation?
4. What were their impressions of each other?
5. Comment on the way the story comes to an end.
6. What method does the author use portraying the characters? Find evidence in the text.
7. What stylistic devices and expressive means are used in the text?
8. Which words refer to the thematic group of “Clothes”? What other thematic groups can you compile?

IV. Do the task “Word power” and hand it in.

WORDPOWER

|№ |Word/word-combination |Definition/ |Translation |Example |
| | |synonym | | |
|1. |to check in | | | |
|2. |a hassle | | | |
|3. |a boarding card | | | |
|4. |a tag | | | |
|5. |a duty-free shop | | | |
|6. |the departure gate | | | |
|7. |a safety belt | | | |
|8. |an air hostess | | | |
|9. |a carousel | | | |
|10. |a conveyor belt | | | |
|11. |a receipt | | | |

[pic]

TASKS FOR “IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST” I. While reading the text pay special attention to underlined words and phrases. II. Translate the following vocabulary items, learn them and use them in speaking on the text: To stand out from the rest To package oneself To provide a salutary lesson To be a universal joke To suffer from a tragic affliction To enhance the vocabulary To confide in sb Heavy confidences To call sb a phoney behind sb’s back To be immersed in the culture To get across the message A tormentor Sagely III. In what meanings is the adverb ‘virtually’ used? Illustrate by examples from the text. IV. Interpret the text according to the points of Literary Analysis Scheme in writing and hand in. V. Do the task ‘Wordpower’ and hand it in.

WORDPOWER
|№ |Word / Word-Combination |Definition / Synonym |Translation |Example |
|1. |A nerd | | | |
|2. |To go native | | | |
|3. |To pall | | | |
|4. |To draw the line (at sth) | | | |
|5. |At the other/opposite extreme | | | |
|6. |To come down to sth | | | |
|7. |To digress | | | |
|8. |boundaries | | | |
|9. |To be the butt of sth | | | |
|10. |To guffaw at sb | | | |
|11. |To amount to sth | | | |

SUPPLEMENT Extracts for text interpretation and analytical reading EXTRACT I 1. It was her mother who had first brought her to Paris when she was twelve, and she had been captivated. At the age of eighteen she had returned to study art history and literature at the Sorbonne. In the two years she had lived in Paris as a student she had come to know it as well as she knew New York, where she had been born and raised. Whether shrouded in spring rain, wrapped in the airless heat of summer or coated with winter snow, Paris was the most beautiful of cities. City of Light, City of Lovers, City of Gaiety, City of Artists … it had so many names. But no matter what people chose to call it, Paris was a truly magical place. She had never lost her fascination with it, and whenever she came back she immediately fell under its spell once again. Mostly, Laura thought of Paris as the City of Artists, for had they not all worked and lived here at one time or another, those great painters of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries? Whatever their origins and from wherever they sprang, they had eventually come here, armed with their palettes and brushes and paints, and their soaring talent. Gauguin, Van Gogh, Renoir, Manet, Monet, Matisse, Cézanne, Vuillard, Degas, Sisley and Seurat. The Impressionist and Post-Impressionist painters she most admired, and in whose work she was an expert, had all converged on Paris to make it their home, if only for a short while. The world of art was her world, and it had been for as long as she could remember. She had inherited her love of art from her mother Maggie Valiant, a well-known American painter who had studied at the Royal College of Art in London and the Ĕcole des Beaux Arts in Paris. But Laura was the first to admit she lacked her mother’s talent and vision as a painter, and when she was in her early teens painting became an avocation rather than her vocation. Nonetheless, she had decided she wanted to work with art once she had finished her studies, and after her graduation from the Sorbonne she did stints with several galleries in Paris before returning home to the States. Once back in New York, she did gallery work again, and then completed a rewarding four years at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. One of her superiors at the museum, impressed by her unerring eye, superb taste, and knowledge of art, encouraged her to become an art-adviser. And so three years ago, at the age of twenty-eight, she and Alison Maynard, a colleague at the Metropolitan, had started their own company. The two of them had made a great success of this venture, which they had named Art Acquisitions. She and Alison bought art for a number of wealthy clients, and helped them to create collections of some significance. Laura loved her career; it was the most important thing in her life, except for her husband Doug, and the Valiants. A few days ago she had flown to Paris from New-York, hoping to find paintings for one of their important clients, a Canadian newspaper magnate. Unfortunately, she had not found anything of importance so far, and she and Alison had agreed on the phone that she would stay on a bit longer to continue her search. She had a number of appointments, and she was hopeful she would find something of interest and value in the coming week. Increasing her pace, Laura soon found herself turning onto the rue de Bellechasse, where the Musée d’Orsay was located not far from the Eiffel Tower and Les Invalides. She had made it from the hotel faster than she had expected, and as she went into the museum she experienced a little spurt of excitement. Inside were some of her favourite works of art. The museum was deserted and this pleased Laura; she disliked crowds when she was looking at paintings. It was really dead this afternoon, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The only sound was the click of her heels on the floor; her footsteps echoed loudly as she walked towards the hall where the Renoirs hung. She stood for a long time in front of Nude in Sunlight. Renoir had painted it in 1875, and yet it looked so fresh, as if he had created it only yesterday. How beautiful it was; she never tired of looking at it. The pearly tints and pink-blush tones of the model’s skin were incomparable, set off by the pale, faintly blue shadows on her shoulders which seemed to emanate from the foliage surrounding her. What a master Renoir had been. The painting was suffused with light – shimmering light. But then to her, Renoir’s canvases always looked as though his brush had been dipped in sunlight. Lover of life, lover of women, Renoir had been the most sensual of painters, and his paintings reflected this, were full of vivid, pulsating life. Laura moved on, stopped to gaze at a much larger painting, Dancing at the Moulin de la Galette. It represented gaiety and young love, and there was so much to see in it – the faces of the dancers, merry, sparkling with happiness, the handsome young men, their arms encircling the beautiful girls; how perfectly Renoir had captured their joie de vivre. His use of colour was superb: the blues and greens in the trees, the blues and creams and pinks in the girls’ dresses, the soft, clear yellow of the men’s straw boaters, and the… ‘Hello, Laura.’ Believing herself to be alone with the Renoirs, Laura jumped when she heard her name. Startled, she swung around. Surprise registered on her face, and she froze. The man who stood a few feet away from her, went on, ‘It’s Philippe, Laura. Philippe Lavillard.’ He smiled, took a step towards her. (B. T. B.) Answer the following questions on Extract I: • How do we see Paris through Laura’s eyes? • What figures of speech does the author employ in order to describe Paris? • What did painting become for Laura? Explain the difference between two nouns avocation and vocation; illustrate their meanings by examples from English-English dictionaries. • Describe Laura’s career connected with art. • How did the museum meet Laura? • Why did Laura consider Renoir a master of art? • Describe paintings by Renoir Laura never tired of looking at? EXTRACT II ‘Claire mentioned you were working on Ebola in Zaire.’ ‘And other hot viruses.’ Laura nodded, tried to edge away. He said, ‘Are you staying in Paris long, Laura?’ ‘No.’ ‘How’s the famous Doug?’ ‘He’s well, thanks.’ ‘This is one of my favourites,’ Philippe Lavillard began, looking intently at Dancing at the Moulin de la Galette, then gesturing towards it. ‘I think I favour it because it’s so positive. There’s so much life in it, such happiness, don’t you think, such hope and expectation in their faces, and a sort of quiet exuberance, even innocence –‘ Abruptly he cut himself off, and glanced to his right. Laura followed his gaze, saw a woman approaching. As she drew closer, Laura realized, with a sudden flash of recognition, that it was Philippe’s mother: a dumpy middle-aged woman in a maroon wool dress, with a black coat flung over her shoulders. She was carrying a handbag on one arm and holding a Galeries Lafayette shopping bag in her hand. She moved at a measured pace. A second later, Rosa Lavillard was standing next to her son, staring at Laura with undisguised curiosity, Philippe said, ‘You remember Laura Valiant, don’t you, Mother?’ ‘Oh yes, of course,’ Rosa Lavillard responded in a cool tone. ‘Good afternoon.’ Rosa’s lined face was impassive, impenetrable; her pale eyes were frosty, and there was a degree of hostility in her manner. ‘Hello, Mrs Lavillard, it’s been a long time,’ Laura answered, recalling the last time she had seen her. At the wedding. Trying to be polite, she added, ‘I hope you’re well.’ ‘I am, thanks. Are you here on vacation?’ Rosa asked. ‘No, this is a business trip.’ ‘Laura’s an art-adviser, Mother,’ Philippe explained, glancing down at Rosa and then across at Laura. ‘She helps people to select and buy paintings.’ ‘I see. You like Renoir, do you?’ Rosa murmured. ‘Very much. He’s a great favourite, and I try to come here whenever I’m in Paris,’ Laura replied. ‘Such beauty,’ Rosa remarked, looking about her. ‘All these Renoirs … they nourish the soul, calm the heart. And they are reassuring … these paintings tell us there is something else besides ugliness out here. Yes, such beauty … it helps to baffle the clamour of cruelty.’ She waved a hand in the air almost absently, peered at Laura and asked, ‘Do you like Van Gogh?’ ‘Oh yes, and Degas and Cézanne, and Gauguin, he’s another favourite.’ ‘His primitives are deceptive. They appear simple yet they are not, they are complex. Like people.’ Rosa nodded her head. ‘It’s obvious the Impressionists appeal to you.’ ‘Yes, that’s my area of expertise. The Post Impressionists, as well.’ ‘I like them myself. If I had a lot of money that’s what I would do, how I would spend my life. I would collect paintings from the Impressionist school. But I am just a poor woman, and so I must make do with going to museums.’ ‘Like most other people, Mother,’ Philippe pointed out gently. ‘That’s true,’ Rosa agreed, and turning, she began to walk away, saying over her shoulder, ‘Enjoy the Renoirs.’ ‘I will,’ Laura said. ‘Goodbye, Mrs Lavillard.’ Rosa made no response. Philippe inclined his head, gave her a faint half-smile, as if he were embarrassed. ‘Nice to see you again, Laura. So long.’ Laura nodded, but said nothing. (B. T. B.) Tasks
I. Translate the following vocabulary items, learn them and use them, speaking on the text:

to cut oneself off to follow somebody’s gaze a sudden flash of recognition undisguised curiosity to appeal to somebody an area of expertise to make do with something/doing something to incline one’s head
II. Speak on the following questions:
1. What did Philippe Lavillard like about the painting?
2. Which words does the author use to describe Rosa’s attitude to Laura?
3. Find in the text the stylistic devices which the author uses to display Rosa’s impressions of Renoir’s paintings.
4. What conclusions can you make about Rosa Lavillard’s character?
5. How does Laura’s speech characterize her?
6. What do you know about Renoir, Degas, Cezanne, Van Gogh and Gauguin? What are the peculiarities of their manner of painting?
7. Find in the text the words belonging to the thematic group of “Painting”?

EXTRACT III He stared at her for a moment, then he swung on his heels and followed his mother out of the hall. Laura stood watching the Lavillards depart, and finally went back to her contemplation of the Renoirs. But the Lavillards had ruined her mood. Their intrusion on her privacy had brought too many memories rushing back, and most of them bad memories. Suddenly she felt nervous, unsettled, unable to concentrate on the paintings. But she didn’t want to leave the museum just yet; she might not have another chance to come back during this trip to Paris. Glancing around, Laura spotted a small bench placed against the far wall, and she went and sat down, still thinking about the Lavillards. What a strange woman Rosa Lavillard was. She remembered a few things Claire had told her years ago, mainly that Rosa was unpredictable, a sick woman who had been hospitalized for long periods. Hadn’t Claire said she had once been in a mental institution? From what Laura now remembered hearing, Rosa had led a troubled life … there had been a painful childhood in France, growing up during the war, the loss of her family in the Allied bombing raids, later a volatile marriage to Pierre Lavillard, then emigration to the States in the 1950s, where Philippe was born. Their only child. The doctor. The prize-winning virologist whom the medical world called a genius. Clair had once said in a moment of anger that Rosa was a crazy woman, and should have been kept in the mental hospital. She had been very vehement about it at the time. Laura closed her eyes, her thoughts settling on Claire Benson: her best friend and confidante, the elder sister she had never had, her role model. Claire had been living in Paris for a number of years, which was one of the reasons she liked to come here, to spend time with Claire. Opening her eyes, Laura stood up. She began to stroll down the long gallery, determinedly pushing aside all thoughts of the Lavillards, mother and son. Within seconds she had forgotten them, once more enjoying the Renoirs hanging there. Soon she was lost in the paintings, soothed by their beauty. And then once again she was no longer alone. Unexpectedly, there was Claire standing by her side, taking hold of her arm. ‘What are you doing here?’ Laura exclaimed, startled to see her friend, filling with a rush of anxiety. Oh God, had Claire run into the Lavillards? She hoped not; they usually upset her. She searched Claire’s face, looking for signs. Claire explained, ‘You told me you were coming to the museum after your lunch, so I thought I’d join you.’ She peered at Laura. ‘What’s wrong? You look odd.’ ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ Laura answered. ‘ You took me by surprise, that’s all.’ She was relieved to see that Claire was calm; obviously she had missed the Lavillards. But probably only by a few moments. Forcing a smile, she went on, ‘So, come on then, let’s walk around together.’ Claire tucked her arm through Laura’s. ‘I like seeing paintings through your eyes. Somehow I get much more pleasure from them when I’m with you.’ Laura nodded, and they moved on, gazing at the masterpieces on the walls, not speaking for a short while. At one moment, Laura lingered in front of a painting of a mother and child, frowning slightly. Claire, always tuned into her best friend, said, ‘Why are you looking so puzzled?’ Shaking her head, Laura replied, ‘I’ve often wondered lately if any of these paintings are stolen –‘ ‘Stolen! What do you mean?’ Claire asked. ‘Thousands and thousands of paintings were stolen by the Nazis during the war, and that art, looted by them, hangs on museum walls all over the world.’ (B. T. B.) EXTRACT IV Eventually they went and joined the countess in front of the fire, and Laura turned to her and said, ‘The Renoir is exquisite, and so are your other paintings, Countess. It is quite an experience to be in a room which contains four such masterpieces. A room in a private home, I mean.’ ‘Merci, Mademoiselle Valiant. You are very kind, and I must say, they are all paintings which make me feel happy when I look at them. But then I have never liked anything that makes me sad or depressed. I have the need to be uplifted by art.’ ‘Absolutely!’ Hercule exclaimed. ‘I agree with you, Jacqueline. Now, I would like to take Laura to the dining room, to show her the Gauguins. He is one of her favourite painters. Is he not, Laura?’ She nodded. Jacqueline stood up. ‘I shall accompany you,’ and so saying she glided across the Aubusson rug and led them down the gallery to the dining room at the far end. Its walls had been sponge-glazed in a cloudy, dusty-pink colour, and this shade also made a wonderfully soft background for the paintings. In this instance they were breathtaking primitives by Paul Gauguin, three altogether, each one hanging alone. There was one on the long central wall, and the others had been placed on two end walls. The fourth wall in the room was intersected by windows which filled it with natural northern light, perfect for these particular works of art. All three paintings were of dark-skinned Tahitian women, either by the sea or in it, or sitting in the natural exotic landscape of the Polynesian islands. The dark skin tones were highlighted by the vivid pareos the women wore around their loins, the colourful vegetation and the unusual pinkish-coral colour Gauguin had so frequently used to depict the earth and the sandy beaches of Tahiti. The dusty-pink walls of the dining room echoed this warm coral, and helped to throw the dark-skinned beauties into relief. Laura was mesmerized. She had never seen Gauguins like these outside a museum, and they were impressive. All three paintings were large, dominant, just the type of art her other important client Mark Tabbart would give his right arm for, as he so frequently proclaimed to her. ‘They are magnificent,’ she exclaimed, glancing at the countess, and before she could stop herself, she rushed on, ‘I would buy any one of these, or all of them, if you consider selling.’ ‘They are the most fabulous Gauguins,’ Jacqueline murmured. ‘Gauguin painted all three in the same year, 1892, and what extraordinary examples of this work they are. I could never sell them, I love them far too much. But even if I had the desire or the need to auction them to the highest bidder, I am afraid, Mademoiselle Valiant, that I could not. The paintings belonged to my husband, and he left them to our son Arnaud and his wife Natalie. I have them to enjoy for my lifetime, but I do not own them.’ ‘I envy you living with them,’ Laura said. ‘They are so beautiful they are … blinding.’ ‘Perhaps we should talk about the Renoir,’ Hercule interjected. ‘As you know, Jacqueline, Laura has a client who may well be interested in it, and, of course, there is Claire Benson, who wishes to photograph it on Monday.’ Jacqueline said, ‘Let us go back to the salon vert, where we can sit and discuss everything in comfort.’

Later that afternoon when Hercule dropped Laura off at the hotel, she thanked him profusely, then said, ‘I will phone my client in Toronto, and hopefully I will be able to give the countess an answer by Monday, perhaps even sooner.’ (B. T. B.) EXTRACT V Veronica had been dead for fifteen years. There was not a day he didn’t miss his wife; yet he had known, when Claire had separated, that this young American woman could so easily fill the void created by his wife’s death. Veronica had been an American too; they had that in common. There any resemblances between them stopped. Veronica had been tall, long-legged, an all-American beauty, blonde, blue-eyed and wafer-thin, one of the great post-war models in Paris, on Christian Dior’s runway showing his New Look and on the cover of every fashion magazine in the world. When he had met her it had been love at first sight, a coup de foudre, and a most happy union until the day she died. Hercule stole a look at Claire, surreptitiously, out of the corner of his eye, and for the second time today he thought she did not look well. She had faintly bluish smudges under her eyes, and the short, curly auburn hair, the bright burnished halo he found so attractive, did not have its usual glossy luster. What struck him with such force when he had arrived at the studio this afternoon was her weight, or rather loss of it. Always slender, she appeared thinner than ever. Maigre. A waif, that was how she appeared to him. An appealing gamin in looks and style, somehow she had become bony. Had she looked like this last week when he had lunched with her at Taillevent? No, she could not have; he would have noticed. He wondered if she were ill? But no, he did not think this was so; she had been full of her usual energy at the studio. Worries of another nature? Money? If this were the problem then there was no problem. He would readily give her as much as she needed. Instantly, Hercule dismissed the thought that Claire lacked money. The mere idea of it was ludicrous. Her husband provided for Natasha, and she was well paid by the magazine. Could it be that Natasha was causing problems for her? No, no, he did not think this possible either. The girl was unusual, very steady and practical, older than her age in a number of ways. Whenever she had been concerned about her daughter in the past, Claire had discussed it with him and he had given the best advice he could. Since he had never been a father, he felt somewhat inadequate in doing so, and yet how kind she had been, always so appreciative of his interest in Natasha. He began to formulate an opening sentence in his mind. He wanted to pose certain questions. How he longed to make whatever it was that ailed her go away. He knew he could do that. If she would let him. He loved her. He had loved her for a long time now. He would always love her, and because of this he had the need to ease the burdens of her life, if he could. And if she would permit him to do so. Women, ah, they were so contrary. He was a Frenchman, and he knew about their natures only too well. Claire had always felt exceptionally comfortable with Hercule Junot, and there was a great sense of ease in their relationship. And so she did not think twice about drifting along with her thoughts, as his car eased its way through the early evening traffic, heading in the direction of the avenue Montaigne. She considered the older man to be her dearest friend in Paris; and they never stood on ceremony with each other. To Claire, the silence between them was perfectly normal, acceptable; she never felt the need to talk to him, to entertain him. And she knew he felt exactly the same way about her. She was thinking about Laura; she was looking forward to having dinner with her tonight. Laura was the only family she had, except for Natasha. Her parents were dead; Aunt Fleur was dead; her husband was ostensibly dead since they were long divorced. Momentarily, his face danced before her eyes, but she pushed it away. She did not want to think about him now; it would spoil her evening. (B. T. B.)
REFERENCES
• Дейнан Э. Метафоры: Справочник по английскому языку / Элис Дейнан; Пер. с англ. С.Г. Томахина. – М.: ООО «Издательство Астрель»: ООО «Издательство АСТ», 2003. – 251, [5] с. • Почепцов Г.Г. Язык и юмор: [Учеб. изд.]. – 3-е изд. – К.: Выща шк., 1990. – 327 с. – Англ. • Д. Т. - Д. Толкин. Хоббит, или туда и обратно: По Д. Толкину. Учеб. пособие для студентов пед. ин-тов по спец. № 2103 «Иностр. яз.» / Обраб. и коммент. Ю.П. Третьякова. – М.: Просвещение, 1982. – 159с. • English Teaching Forum: A Journal for the Teacher of English Outside the United States. – Volume 32, Number 3, July 1994. • English Teaching Forum: A Journal for the Teacher of English Outside the United States. – Volume 38, Number 1, January 2000. • Olena Saciuk. Materials donated to the English Department.

List of Fiction Texts

A.C. – Agatha Christie. Dumb Witness. Pan Books: Cox and Wyman Ltd. London, 1979.

A.F. – Allan Folsom. Day of Confession. Little, Brown and Company Ltd. Toronto, 1998.

A.H. – Arthur Hailey. The Evening News. Gorgi Books, 1997.

A.K. – Alfred Kazin “In Mother’s Kitchen”: Marjorie Ford, Jon Ford, Ann Watters. Coming from Home. Readings for Writers. McGraw-Hill, Inc. NY, 1993.

B.T.B. – A Sudden Change of Heart. Harper Collins Publishers. L., 1999.

D.S. – Danielle Steel. Answered Prayers. A Dell Book. NY, 2003; Impossible. A Dell Book. NY, 2006; Message From Nam. Dell Publishing. NY, 1990; Miracle. A Dell Book. NY, 2006; The Long Road Home. Dell Publishing. NY, 1998.

E.O’B. – Edna O’Brien. Girl With Green Eyes. Penguin Books. London, 1971.

E.S. – Erich Segal. Only Love. Berkley Books. NY, 1998.

F.M. – Fern Michaels. The Nosy Neighbour. Pocket Books. New York, 2005.

F.S.F. – F.Scott Fitzgerald. The Diamond as Big as the Ritz and Other Stories. Penguin Books. London, 1996.

G.M. – George Mikes. How To Be An Alien. Penguin Books. London, 1966.

I.J. – Iris Johansen. Final Target. Bantam Books. New York, 2002.

J.G. – John Grisham. The Partner. Island Books. NY, 1997; The Pelican Brief. Island Books. NY, 1993.

L.P. – Lesley Pearse. Till We Meet Again. Penguin Books. London, 2003.

M.A. – Mitch Albom. Tuesdays with Morrie. The Time Warner Books. London, 2005.

M.B. – Maeve Binchy. Firefly Summer. Dell Publishing. NY, 1988; The Return Journey. A Dell Book. NY, 1998.

MK.K. – Mac Kinlay Kantor. Lobo. The Reader’s Digest Association. Pleasantville. NY, 1957.

O.H. – O.Henry. Selected Stories. Progress Publishers. Moscow, 1997; Selected Stories. Вибрані твори//Посіб. для студ. та викл. вищих навч. закладів. – Вінниця: НОВА КНИГА, 2005.

P.G. – Philippa Gregory. The Other Boleyn Girl. Harper Collins Publishers. London, 2002.

S.K. – Stephen King.The Green Mile. Penguin Books. London, 1996.

S.M. – Sue Miller. While I Was Gone. Bloomsbury Publishing. London, 2006.

S.S. – Sidney Sheldon. The Other Side Of Midnight. Warner Books Inc. NY,1990; The Naked Face. Harper Collins Publishers. L., 1994.

V.C.A. – V.C.Andrews. Midnight Whispers. Pocket Books. NY, 1992.

РЕЦЕНЗІЯ

на навчально-методичний посібник із аналітичного читання та інтерпретації тексту для студентів третього курсу англійського відділення стаціонарної та заочної форми навчання “A Commonsense Guide to Analytical Reading and Text Interpretation” старшого викладача кафедри англійської філології Мінцис Е.Є., аспірантки кафедри світової літератури Карбашевської О.В. аспірантки кафедри англійської філології Мінцис Ю.Б.

Рецензований посібник є змістовним та інформативним. Він містить в собі багатий ілюстративний матеріал із художніх творів американських та британських авторів, різноманітні завдання та вдало підібрані автентичні тексти для аналітичного читання та інтерпретації. Посібник є свідченням грутновного опрацювання авторами значного обсягу ілюстративних джерел, які зазначені у списку використаної літератури. Вважаю, що посібник буде корисним для використання на заняттях з основної та другої іноземних мов, сприятиме розвитку у студентів навичок аналітичного читання, інтерпретації тексту з елементами стилістичного аналізу та мовної компетенції і рекомендую його до друку.

Я.В. Бистров
к.ф.н., доцент, зав.кафедри англійської філології факультету іноземних мов
Прикарпатського національного університету імені В.Стефаника