Questões de Vestibular de Inglês - Interpretação de texto | Reading comprehension
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Read the following passage of “The Dinner”, by Clarice Lispector, and answer question.
“I leaned over my meal, lost. When I finally managed to confront him from the depths of my pallid face, I observed that he, too, was leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table, his head between his hands. And obviously he could bear it no longer. His bushy eyebrows were touching. His food must have lodged just below his throat under the stress of his emotion, for when he was able to continue, he made a visible effort to swallow, dabbing his forehead with his napkin. I could bear it no longer, the meat on my plate was raw… and I really could not bear it another minute. But he – he was eating.
The waiter brought a bottle in a bucket of ice. I noted every detail without being capable of discrimination. The bottle was different, the waiter in tails, and the light haloed the robust head of Pluto which was now moving with curiosity, greedy and attentive. For a second the waiter obliterated my view of the elderly gentleman and I could only see his black coattails hovering over the table as he poured red wine into the glass and waited with ardent eyes – because here was a surely man who would tip generously, one of those elderly gentlemen who still command attention… and power. The elderly gentleman, who now seemed larger, confidently took a sip, lowered his glass, and sourly considered the taste in his mouth. He compressed his lips and smacked them with distaste, as if the good were also intolerable. I waited, the waiter waited, and we both leaned forward in suspense. Finally he made a grimace of approval. The waiter curved his shiny head in submission to the man’s words of thanks and went off with lowered head, while I sighed with relief.
He now mingled gulps of wine with the meat in his great mouth and his false teeth
ponderously chewed while I observed him… in vain. Nothing more happened. The
restaurant appeared to radiate with renewed intensity under the tinkling of glass and
cutlery; in the brightly lit dome of the room the whispered conversation rose and fell
in gentle waves; the woman in the large hat smiled with half closed eyes, looking
slender and beautiful as the waiter carefully poured the wine into her glass. But now
he was making another gesture.”
Read the following passage of “The Dinner”, by Clarice Lispector, and answer question.
“I leaned over my meal, lost. When I finally managed to confront him from the depths of my pallid face, I observed that he, too, was leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table, his head between his hands. And obviously he could bear it no longer. His bushy eyebrows were touching. His food must have lodged just below his throat under the stress of his emotion, for when he was able to continue, he made a visible effort to swallow, dabbing his forehead with his napkin. I could bear it no longer, the meat on my plate was raw… and I really could not bear it another minute. But he – he was eating.
The waiter brought a bottle in a bucket of ice. I noted every detail without being capable of discrimination. The bottle was different, the waiter in tails, and the light haloed the robust head of Pluto which was now moving with curiosity, greedy and attentive. For a second the waiter obliterated my view of the elderly gentleman and I could only see his black coattails hovering over the table as he poured red wine into the glass and waited with ardent eyes – because here was a surely man who would tip generously, one of those elderly gentlemen who still command attention… and power. The elderly gentleman, who now seemed larger, confidently took a sip, lowered his glass, and sourly considered the taste in his mouth. He compressed his lips and smacked them with distaste, as if the good were also intolerable. I waited, the waiter waited, and we both leaned forward in suspense. Finally he made a grimace of approval. The waiter curved his shiny head in submission to the man’s words of thanks and went off with lowered head, while I sighed with relief.
He now mingled gulps of wine with the meat in his great mouth and his false teeth
ponderously chewed while I observed him… in vain. Nothing more happened. The
restaurant appeared to radiate with renewed intensity under the tinkling of glass and
cutlery; in the brightly lit dome of the room the whispered conversation rose and fell
in gentle waves; the woman in the large hat smiled with half closed eyes, looking
slender and beautiful as the waiter carefully poured the wine into her glass. But now
he was making another gesture.”
Read the following passage of “The Dinner”, by Clarice Lispector, and answer question.
“I leaned over my meal, lost. When I finally managed to confront him from the depths of my pallid face, I observed that he, too, was leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table, his head between his hands. And obviously he could bear it no longer. His bushy eyebrows were touching. His food must have lodged just below his throat under the stress of his emotion, for when he was able to continue, he made a visible effort to swallow, dabbing his forehead with his napkin. I could bear it no longer, the meat on my plate was raw… and I really could not bear it another minute. But he – he was eating.
The waiter brought a bottle in a bucket of ice. I noted every detail without being capable of discrimination. The bottle was different, the waiter in tails, and the light haloed the robust head of Pluto which was now moving with curiosity, greedy and attentive. For a second the waiter obliterated my view of the elderly gentleman and I could only see his black coattails hovering over the table as he poured red wine into the glass and waited with ardent eyes – because here was a surely man who would tip generously, one of those elderly gentlemen who still command attention… and power. The elderly gentleman, who now seemed larger, confidently took a sip, lowered his glass, and sourly considered the taste in his mouth. He compressed his lips and smacked them with distaste, as if the good were also intolerable. I waited, the waiter waited, and we both leaned forward in suspense. Finally he made a grimace of approval. The waiter curved his shiny head in submission to the man’s words of thanks and went off with lowered head, while I sighed with relief.
He now mingled gulps of wine with the meat in his great mouth and his false teeth
ponderously chewed while I observed him… in vain. Nothing more happened. The
restaurant appeared to radiate with renewed intensity under the tinkling of glass and
cutlery; in the brightly lit dome of the room the whispered conversation rose and fell
in gentle waves; the woman in the large hat smiled with half closed eyes, looking
slender and beautiful as the waiter carefully poured the wine into her glass. But now
he was making another gesture.”
Fonte: https://steemit.com/meme/@ epicdave/whats-the-difference-between-ignorance-and-apathy
A resposta dada pela garota neste meme significa:
1. Os canudos de plástico usados por todas as lojas do McDonald’s no Reino Unido até o outono passado já eram recicláveis. Mesmo assim, foram substituídos por canudos de papel para evitar plásticos de uso único.
2. A direção do McDonald’s do Reino Unido e da Irlanda pede que os consumidores descartem os canudos de papel no lixo comum porque descobriram que, na verdade, eles não são totalmente recicláveis.
3. Inicialmente, foram utilizados canudos de papel reciclável que se desmanchavam com facilidade, gerando reclamações de consumidores. Por isso a troca para o papel mais grosso, o que torna impossível sua reciclagem.
4. O problema com os novos canudos de papel vem da incapacidade apenas momentânea das empresas recicladoras de processar esse tipo de papel – mas elas garantem que os canudos não vão para aterros sanitários.
5. Um grupo de consumidores ambientalistas do McDonald’s criou um abaixo-assinado com mais de 51.000 adesões, pedindo a volta dos canudos de plástico, para os quais já há tecnologia de reciclagem existente.
Indique qual das opções abaixo classifica corretamente as cinco afirmações acima como Verdadeiras (V) ou Falsas (F).
A questão referem-se ao quadrinho
abaixo.
A questao refere-se ao texto abaixo.
A questao refere-se ao texto abaixo.
The Century Trilogy: An epic of Follett proportions
By Kevin Nance September 7, 2012
Well before blockbuster movies, there were blockbuster novels: big, juicy, page-turning epics, with dozens of characters, exotic settings and multiple plots playing out over several years, often against the backdrop of some extended historical conflict. Tolstoy largely invented the form in 1869 with “War and Peace,” and by the middle of the 20th century, its latter-day stalwarts — including James Jones, Herman Wouk and the tireless fiction factory known as James Michener — bestrode the bestseller lists like the titans they were. In recent years, however, the form has fallen somewhat out of favor with writers, if not with readers. Who wants to spend so much time, day in and day out, with the same set of protagonists? Who wants to do all that research? Who has the nerve, not to mention the patience, to keep all those narrative balls in the air over hundreds of pages?
Ken Follett, actually. At 63, the Welsh author is one of the last Mohicans of the form, having traded his highly successful thrillers (“Eye of the Needle,” “The Key to Rebecca”) for the multigenerational historical saga in 1989’s “The Pillars of the Earth” (adapted as a Starz miniseries in 2010) and its sequel, 2007’s “World Without End,” which premieres as a miniseries on Reelz next month.
Adaptado - Disponível em: https://www.washingtonpost.
com/entertainment/books/the-century-trilogy-an-epic-of-
-follett-proportions/2012/09/07.Acesso 22/9/16.
A questao refere-se ao texto abaixo.
The Century Trilogy: An epic of Follett proportions
By Kevin Nance September 7, 2012
Well before blockbuster movies, there were blockbuster novels: big, juicy, page-turning epics, with dozens of characters, exotic settings and multiple plots playing out over several years, often against the backdrop of some extended historical conflict. Tolstoy largely invented the form in 1869 with “War and Peace,” and by the middle of the 20th century, its latter-day stalwarts — including James Jones, Herman Wouk and the tireless fiction factory known as James Michener — bestrode the bestseller lists like the titans they were. In recent years, however, the form has fallen somewhat out of favor with writers, if not with readers. Who wants to spend so much time, day in and day out, with the same set of protagonists? Who wants to do all that research? Who has the nerve, not to mention the patience, to keep all those narrative balls in the air over hundreds of pages?
Ken Follett, actually. At 63, the Welsh author is one of the last Mohicans of the form, having traded his highly successful thrillers (“Eye of the Needle,” “The Key to Rebecca”) for the multigenerational historical saga in 1989’s “The Pillars of the Earth” (adapted as a Starz miniseries in 2010) and its sequel, 2007’s “World Without End,” which premieres as a miniseries on Reelz next month.
Adaptado - Disponível em: https://www.washingtonpost.
com/entertainment/books/the-century-trilogy-an-epic-of-
-follett-proportions/2012/09/07.Acesso 22/9/16.
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