Final test on stylistics and text interpretation

FINAL TEST ON STYLISTICS AND TEXT INTERPRETATION

For the forth year studentы

Name: Narzullayev Habibullo

Group:417

Date:______________________________ Gained Score:_______

Variant-264

I. Define the stylistic devices in the following sentences: 1 point per answer

1. Mary wanted to talk, to weep, to console and be consoled. Antithesis

2. She asked after old Jolyon’s health. A wonderful man for his age, so upright voung-lookiny. and old was she? Eiyhtv-one! She would never have thought it! They were at the sael Very nice for them. Represented speech

3. But Johnsie he smote, and she lay, scarcely moving in her painted iron bedstead. Invertion

4. Thank God for gas, anyway. What must it have been like before there were anaesthetics? Rheoritical question

5. And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain. Onomatopoeia

6. I understood you are poor, and wish to earn money by nursing the little boy, my son, who has been deprived of what can never been replaced. Periphrasis
7. Beautiful sins, like beautiful things, privilege of the rich. Oxymoron

8. The human heart can suffer. It can hold more tears than the ocean holds waters. Simile

9. I’ve got a pile of money in the bank, and there’s nothing to spend it on this God-forsaken backwater. Periphrasis

10. ... and I sent up such a yell across the water that made the night seem to shake in its bed. Metaphor

11. And-elegantly threadbare round about and dapper-the two walked side by side. Oxymoron

12. With a scythe-like motion the boat swings ... Epithet

13. We could hear the cheery chatter of our knives. Metaphor

14. Rup wished he could be swift, accurate, compassionate and stern instead of clumsy and vague and sentimental. Antithesis

15. "To be a good actress, she must always work for the truth in what she's playing," the man said in a voice not empty of self-love. Litotes

II. Make the stylistic analysis of the following extract. Total score 15 points

1. 
   Say a few words about the author and his creation.
   

Marshall Alan

1.Alan Marshall is Australia's greatest story-teller. He was born in Noorat, Victoria on May 2nd 1902. Alan Marshall has written fourteen books, many of which have been published around the world. Marshall has a place in the hearts of all Australians, for he writes about his fellow countrymen with a rare wit, humour, compassion and deep understanding. He has spent his lifetime living among them in the bush (2) and the cities. He has travelled throughout the countryside, writing about them, talking with them, amusing them, loving them. All his stories - sad stories, funny stories, warm stories, tragic stories - are really remarkable.

2. Relate the plot of the story.

Andy was Joe's younger brother. He had not yet started school (5) and it was Joe's job to look after him. Joe was not fond of looking after Andy, though Andy was always eager to stay with Joe.

"What do you want?" Joe asked him.

"Mum said you've got to look after me," said Andy, who was watching us both, waiting to see our reaction to his words.

"All right," said Joe after hesitating (6) a moment. "You stop here with us and don't go away." "I'll race anyone in the world," Joe cried again.

"I'll crawl (7) anyone in the world," I sang out in answer, determined to be in it. "I'll crawl you or anyone. I'm the champion crawler of the world."

I began crawling, moving quickly on the grass.

Joe became interested. He dropped to his hands and knees and crawled after me, shouting, "Here I come, the greatest crawler who ever lived."

"Listen," I suggested. "How about us holding the crawling-championship of the world, eh?"

The suggestion seemed very doubtful to Joe.

"They never have crawling-championships," he said at last. "It would be good to have the running-championship of the world but not the crawling."

"That's no good to me," I protested. "Where would I get, running?"

Andy, who had been listening to what Joe had been saying, dared to express the opinion that "crawling was better than anything."

"You're too little to know anything about crawling, Andy," Joe told him.

Still we decided to hold the crawling-championship of the world on the sports ground the next evening.

3. Comment on the vocabulary of the extract. (Neologisms, archaisms, barbarisms, terms, slang, jargon, vulgarisms, dialectical words).

Swaggie – archaisms

Flat - out - slang

Grudge – vulgar word
4. Define the stylistic devices from the extract.

1. Joe baa-ed at rams and cast reflections* on the drinking habits of swagmen. Personification

2. With his head poking out from behind a convenient tree, he would chant at a passing sundowner:

Metaphor

3. Whiskers, Whiskers, fill your gizzard

Till you're flat-out like a lizard.

Simile

4. When pursued by swagmen or rams Joe ran with great resolution, his half-mast pants flapping just below the knees, the chewed tie of his sailor-jacket pressed flat against his chest.

Personification

5. An attack of polio had forced me to walk on crutches, and Joe was the sort of mate who naturally adjusted himself to the limitations of those he liked.

Metaphor/ Personification

6. An ant was just as interesting lo Joe as an elephant to less imaginative school-mates.

Simile

7. On that day the area around the circular track was full of buggies and gigs, their shafts resting on the ground.

Personification

HOW'S ANDY GOING?

By Alan Marshall

(Extract)

Joe was not particularly fond of running. On those rare occasions when he felt impelled to move at top speed, you could bet your life that McPherson's pet ram or a cursing swaggie was pounding along a few yards behind him.

Joe baa-ed at rams and cast reflections* on the drinking habits of swagmen. With his head poking out from behind a convenient tree, he would chant at a passing sundowner:

Whiskers, Whiskers, fill your gizzard

Till you're flat-out like a lizard.

When pursued by swagmen or rams Joe ran with great resolution, his half-mast pants flapping just below the knees, the chewed tie of his sailor-jacket pressed flat against his chest.

Normally, Joe favoured sitting down more than running. He liked to sit on a log with his elbows on his knees, watching our dogs sniffing through the bush for rabbits.

Maybe I trained him that way. An attack of polio had forced me to walk on crutches, and Joe was the sort of mate who naturally adjusted himself to the limitations of those he liked. He made our walks through the bush a series of journeys from one resting place to another, a mode of progress he came to accept as his own choosing.

"You can't beat sitting down and just looking," he sometimes said when he felt I needed a rest.

Joe looked at everything. An ant was just as interesting lo Joe as an elephant to less imaginative schoolmates.

"If an ant was as big as an elephant, it'd belt hell out of him," he pronounced in one of his more thoughtful moments.

Each year Turalla, the small township three miles from the district in which we lived, held a sports meeting in a ten-acre paddock behind the local pub.

On that day the area around the circular track was full of buggies and gigs, their shafts resting on the ground. The fences were 'lined with tethered horses drooping beneath their harness, and men moved among them talking about the prospect of rain — "We could do with it badly."

At lunch-time the people sat on the grass beside their buggies and ate sandwiches and drank tea they poured from billies. It was a day when men and women gossiped and children ran shouting between the tents and stalls.

Everyone attended the sports meeting. Not to attend would have established you as an oddity or as one who had a grudge against members of the committee.

When the first poster appeared on the post-office wall the school children gathered round it in an excited group. From then on till sports-day their activities were coloured by the events it described; the manner of those who could run or ride bicycles became more condescending, the inferior position of those who couldn't, more marked.