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Q2280174
Matemática
Considere um triângulo ABC e M o ponto médio do lado BC. Tome o ponto
R ≠ A na reta AB tal que m(AB) = m(BR) e o ponto Q na reta AC tal que m(AC) = 2 m(CQ)
e Q não esteja no segmento AC. A reta RM corta o lado AC no ponto S e a reta QM corta
o lado AB no ponto P. Sendo 24 a área do triângulo ABC, o valor da área do quadrilátero
APMS vale:
Q2280173
Matemática
Um poliedro convexo tem 24 vértices e 36 arestas. Sabemos que cada vértice
une 3 faces e que o número de arestas em cada face só pode assumir um entre dois valores
m ou n. É CORRETO afirmar que:
Q2280172
Matemática
Considere um cilindro circular reto tal que a área da sua base A1, a área da
sua superfície lateral A2 e o seu volume A3 formem, nesta ordem, uma progressão geométrica crescente. A medida do raio da base pode estar no intervalo:
Q2280171
Matemática
O valor de k ∈ R de modo que as raízes do polinômio p(x) = x3 + 3x2 −6x +k
estejam em progressão geométrica é:
Q2280170
Matemática
Considere o conjunto C = {1; 2; 3; 4; 5}. Para cada escolha possível de
a0, a1, a2, a3, a4 ∈ C, dois a dois distintos, formamos o polinômio
a0 + a1x + a2x2 + a3x3 + a4x4
A soma das raízes, contadas com multiplicidade, de todos os polinômios formados nesse processo é igual a:
a0 + a1x + a2x2 + a3x3 + a4x4
A soma das raízes, contadas com multiplicidade, de todos os polinômios formados nesse processo é igual a:
Q2280169
Matemática
Considere o conjunto:
A = {1; 2; 4; 8; 16; 32; 64; 128; 256}:
Qual o menor n ∈ N tal que todo subconjunto de A com n elementos contenha pelo menos um par cujo produto seja 256?
A = {1; 2; 4; 8; 16; 32; 64; 128; 256}:
Qual o menor n ∈ N tal que todo subconjunto de A com n elementos contenha pelo menos um par cujo produto seja 256?
Q2280168
Matemática
Determine o valor de
Q2280167
Matemática
Sejam A; B; C; D ∈ Mn(R). Considere o sistema linear
nas variáveis X; Y ∈ Mn(R). Considere as afirmações:
I. Se det A = 0 ou det D = 0, então o sistema é impossível.
II. Se A = B, então o sistema possui uma única solução.
III. O sistema possui uma única solução apenas se A e D são inversíveis.
É (São) VERDADEIRA(S):
Q2280166
Matemática
Sejam A, B, C ⊆ R tais que C ⊆ A. Considere as afirmações:
I. (A ∩ B) ∪ C = A ∩ (B ∪ C).
II. A ∩ B = C ∪ (B ∩ (R − C)).
III. A ∩ (B − C) = (A ∩ B) − C.
É (São) VERDADEIRA(S)
I. (A ∩ B) ∪ C = A ∩ (B ∪ C).
II. A ∩ B = C ∪ (B ∩ (R − C)).
III. A ∩ (B − C) = (A ∩ B) − C.
É (São) VERDADEIRA(S)
Q2280165
Inglês
Texto associado
Leia o texto a seguir para responder a questão
On the surface, there is little to distinguish the Woolf Social Club from any other hipster
hangout in Seoul, South Korea. Customers perch on wooden stools at formica tables,
tapping on laptops while they sip their coffee. Records and cds line the walls, soft jazz
trickles from speakers. On the white wall above the bar, in big black letters, is the statement:
“More dignity, less bullshit”.
It is only on closer inspection that you realise this is more than just another coffee shop. On
the mugs are cartoon drawings of Virginia Woolf, an angry wolf roaring from her shirt. A
bookshelf contains South Korean feminist novels and works of self-help (titles include
“Lessons on Being Unmarried”) alongside “The Second Sex” by Simone de Beauvoir and
“The Handmaid’s Tale” by Margaret Atwood. On the wall is a poster for an exhibition of
feminist art at a nearby gallery.
“I wanted a space for like-minded women to meet and talk,” says Kim Jina, a 47-year-old
former advertising executive and politician who founded the café six years ago. Kim was
inspired by Woolf’s dictum that in order to write fiction, a woman needed “five hundred
[pounds] a year and a room with a lock on the door”. That is, financial independence and a
place to think. The café’s casual vibe is deliberate: she wanted to avoid creating barriers to
entry for women who were merely curious, rather than fully committed to the movement.
Besides, she adds, “If I limited myself to feminist customers, I could never make a living.”
South Korea, even its trendy capital, is a difficult place to be a woman. The wage gap
between the sexes is the highest in the rich world. Traditional expectations about gender
roles, beauty standards and the way women should conduct themselves remain pervasive.
“Misogyny surrounds you so naturally that you barely even notice it,” says Kim. “I had no
role models, so my idea of how a successful woman should be came straight from ‘Sex and
the City’.” For much of her 20s and 30s, she spent most of her money on make-up and
expensive handbags, partying every weekend and dreaming about meeting her version of
Mr Big, the rich, smooth-talking love interest of the show’s main character, Carrie.
“I never worried about misogyny because I thought being sexually attractive was a form of
power,” says Kim. “But eventually I realised that men with real power don’t wear make-up
and expensive dresses.” Her epiphany came when she was passed over for promotion in
favour of a male colleague. “My boss said, ‘He needs it more than you because he has a
wife and a child to take care of,’ and I realised that I had been wrong to think that all I needed
to do was work hard and be good at my job.”
Kim’s burgeoning feminism crystallised in the summer of 2016, after a woman was murdered
in a public toilet in an upmarket part of Seoul. The killer initially claimed that he had done it
because he had been ignored by women. “I lived right around the corner, and I thought: that
could have been me,” says Kim. Like many other women, she was upset by media coverage
that ignored the misogynist motives for his crime and blamed it entirely on his mental-health
problems.
The murder prompted South Korean women to come together, initially in online
communities, and discuss how to fight back against sexism. Then they took to the streets.
In 2018 there was a series of protests against the widespread practice of recording illegal
footage of women by hiding small cameras in public toilets or changing rooms.
Kim founded the Woolf Social Club in 2017. “I thought, we talk to each other on the internet,
but it would be good to have a physical space in which to do that,” she says. “If you walk
around Seoul, you see all these cafés aimed at couples, where women look pretty and lower
their voices. I wanted a space where they could raise them.”
[Fonte: Lena Schipper. “Virginia Woolf is inspiring South Korean feminists”. In: The
Economist, 09/05/2022,<http://www.economist.com/1843/2022/05/09/virginia-woolf-is-inspiring-south-korean-feminists>. Adaptado. Data de acesso: 27/08/2023.]
De acordo com os parágrafos seis e sete, as manifestações nas ruas contra
o sexismo na Coreia tiveram como estopim
Q2280164
Inglês
Texto associado
Leia o texto a seguir para responder a questão
On the surface, there is little to distinguish the Woolf Social Club from any other hipster
hangout in Seoul, South Korea. Customers perch on wooden stools at formica tables,
tapping on laptops while they sip their coffee. Records and cds line the walls, soft jazz
trickles from speakers. On the white wall above the bar, in big black letters, is the statement:
“More dignity, less bullshit”.
It is only on closer inspection that you realise this is more than just another coffee shop. On
the mugs are cartoon drawings of Virginia Woolf, an angry wolf roaring from her shirt. A
bookshelf contains South Korean feminist novels and works of self-help (titles include
“Lessons on Being Unmarried”) alongside “The Second Sex” by Simone de Beauvoir and
“The Handmaid’s Tale” by Margaret Atwood. On the wall is a poster for an exhibition of
feminist art at a nearby gallery.
“I wanted a space for like-minded women to meet and talk,” says Kim Jina, a 47-year-old
former advertising executive and politician who founded the café six years ago. Kim was
inspired by Woolf’s dictum that in order to write fiction, a woman needed “five hundred
[pounds] a year and a room with a lock on the door”. That is, financial independence and a
place to think. The café’s casual vibe is deliberate: she wanted to avoid creating barriers to
entry for women who were merely curious, rather than fully committed to the movement.
Besides, she adds, “If I limited myself to feminist customers, I could never make a living.”
South Korea, even its trendy capital, is a difficult place to be a woman. The wage gap
between the sexes is the highest in the rich world. Traditional expectations about gender
roles, beauty standards and the way women should conduct themselves remain pervasive.
“Misogyny surrounds you so naturally that you barely even notice it,” says Kim. “I had no
role models, so my idea of how a successful woman should be came straight from ‘Sex and
the City’.” For much of her 20s and 30s, she spent most of her money on make-up and
expensive handbags, partying every weekend and dreaming about meeting her version of
Mr Big, the rich, smooth-talking love interest of the show’s main character, Carrie.
“I never worried about misogyny because I thought being sexually attractive was a form of
power,” says Kim. “But eventually I realised that men with real power don’t wear make-up
and expensive dresses.” Her epiphany came when she was passed over for promotion in
favour of a male colleague. “My boss said, ‘He needs it more than you because he has a
wife and a child to take care of,’ and I realised that I had been wrong to think that all I needed
to do was work hard and be good at my job.”
Kim’s burgeoning feminism crystallised in the summer of 2016, after a woman was murdered
in a public toilet in an upmarket part of Seoul. The killer initially claimed that he had done it
because he had been ignored by women. “I lived right around the corner, and I thought: that
could have been me,” says Kim. Like many other women, she was upset by media coverage
that ignored the misogynist motives for his crime and blamed it entirely on his mental-health
problems.
The murder prompted South Korean women to come together, initially in online
communities, and discuss how to fight back against sexism. Then they took to the streets.
In 2018 there was a series of protests against the widespread practice of recording illegal
footage of women by hiding small cameras in public toilets or changing rooms.
Kim founded the Woolf Social Club in 2017. “I thought, we talk to each other on the internet,
but it would be good to have a physical space in which to do that,” she says. “If you walk
around Seoul, you see all these cafés aimed at couples, where women look pretty and lower
their voices. I wanted a space where they could raise them.”
[Fonte: Lena Schipper. “Virginia Woolf is inspiring South Korean feminists”. In: The
Economist, 09/05/2022,<http://www.economist.com/1843/2022/05/09/virginia-woolf-is-inspiring-south-korean-feminists>. Adaptado. Data de acesso: 27/08/2023.]
Dentre as razões expostas no texto sobre as dificuldades encontradas pelas
mulheres coreanas, são corretas as afirmações, EXCETO:
Q2280163
Inglês
Texto associado
Leia o texto a seguir para responder a questão
On the surface, there is little to distinguish the Woolf Social Club from any other hipster
hangout in Seoul, South Korea. Customers perch on wooden stools at formica tables,
tapping on laptops while they sip their coffee. Records and cds line the walls, soft jazz
trickles from speakers. On the white wall above the bar, in big black letters, is the statement:
“More dignity, less bullshit”.
It is only on closer inspection that you realise this is more than just another coffee shop. On
the mugs are cartoon drawings of Virginia Woolf, an angry wolf roaring from her shirt. A
bookshelf contains South Korean feminist novels and works of self-help (titles include
“Lessons on Being Unmarried”) alongside “The Second Sex” by Simone de Beauvoir and
“The Handmaid’s Tale” by Margaret Atwood. On the wall is a poster for an exhibition of
feminist art at a nearby gallery.
“I wanted a space for like-minded women to meet and talk,” says Kim Jina, a 47-year-old
former advertising executive and politician who founded the café six years ago. Kim was
inspired by Woolf’s dictum that in order to write fiction, a woman needed “five hundred
[pounds] a year and a room with a lock on the door”. That is, financial independence and a
place to think. The café’s casual vibe is deliberate: she wanted to avoid creating barriers to
entry for women who were merely curious, rather than fully committed to the movement.
Besides, she adds, “If I limited myself to feminist customers, I could never make a living.”
South Korea, even its trendy capital, is a difficult place to be a woman. The wage gap
between the sexes is the highest in the rich world. Traditional expectations about gender
roles, beauty standards and the way women should conduct themselves remain pervasive.
“Misogyny surrounds you so naturally that you barely even notice it,” says Kim. “I had no
role models, so my idea of how a successful woman should be came straight from ‘Sex and
the City’.” For much of her 20s and 30s, she spent most of her money on make-up and
expensive handbags, partying every weekend and dreaming about meeting her version of
Mr Big, the rich, smooth-talking love interest of the show’s main character, Carrie.
“I never worried about misogyny because I thought being sexually attractive was a form of
power,” says Kim. “But eventually I realised that men with real power don’t wear make-up
and expensive dresses.” Her epiphany came when she was passed over for promotion in
favour of a male colleague. “My boss said, ‘He needs it more than you because he has a
wife and a child to take care of,’ and I realised that I had been wrong to think that all I needed
to do was work hard and be good at my job.”
Kim’s burgeoning feminism crystallised in the summer of 2016, after a woman was murdered
in a public toilet in an upmarket part of Seoul. The killer initially claimed that he had done it
because he had been ignored by women. “I lived right around the corner, and I thought: that
could have been me,” says Kim. Like many other women, she was upset by media coverage
that ignored the misogynist motives for his crime and blamed it entirely on his mental-health
problems.
The murder prompted South Korean women to come together, initially in online
communities, and discuss how to fight back against sexism. Then they took to the streets.
In 2018 there was a series of protests against the widespread practice of recording illegal
footage of women by hiding small cameras in public toilets or changing rooms.
Kim founded the Woolf Social Club in 2017. “I thought, we talk to each other on the internet,
but it would be good to have a physical space in which to do that,” she says. “If you walk
around Seoul, you see all these cafés aimed at couples, where women look pretty and lower
their voices. I wanted a space where they could raise them.”
[Fonte: Lena Schipper. “Virginia Woolf is inspiring South Korean feminists”. In: The
Economist, 09/05/2022,<http://www.economist.com/1843/2022/05/09/virginia-woolf-is-inspiring-south-korean-feminists>. Adaptado. Data de acesso: 27/08/2023.]
In the excerpt from the third paragraph “I wanted a space for like-minded
women to meet and talk,” the underlined term expresses an idea of:
Q2280162
Inglês
Texto associado
Leia o texto a seguir para responder a questão
On the surface, there is little to distinguish the Woolf Social Club from any other hipster
hangout in Seoul, South Korea. Customers perch on wooden stools at formica tables,
tapping on laptops while they sip their coffee. Records and cds line the walls, soft jazz
trickles from speakers. On the white wall above the bar, in big black letters, is the statement:
“More dignity, less bullshit”.
It is only on closer inspection that you realise this is more than just another coffee shop. On
the mugs are cartoon drawings of Virginia Woolf, an angry wolf roaring from her shirt. A
bookshelf contains South Korean feminist novels and works of self-help (titles include
“Lessons on Being Unmarried”) alongside “The Second Sex” by Simone de Beauvoir and
“The Handmaid’s Tale” by Margaret Atwood. On the wall is a poster for an exhibition of
feminist art at a nearby gallery.
“I wanted a space for like-minded women to meet and talk,” says Kim Jina, a 47-year-old
former advertising executive and politician who founded the café six years ago. Kim was
inspired by Woolf’s dictum that in order to write fiction, a woman needed “five hundred
[pounds] a year and a room with a lock on the door”. That is, financial independence and a
place to think. The café’s casual vibe is deliberate: she wanted to avoid creating barriers to
entry for women who were merely curious, rather than fully committed to the movement.
Besides, she adds, “If I limited myself to feminist customers, I could never make a living.”
South Korea, even its trendy capital, is a difficult place to be a woman. The wage gap
between the sexes is the highest in the rich world. Traditional expectations about gender
roles, beauty standards and the way women should conduct themselves remain pervasive.
“Misogyny surrounds you so naturally that you barely even notice it,” says Kim. “I had no
role models, so my idea of how a successful woman should be came straight from ‘Sex and
the City’.” For much of her 20s and 30s, she spent most of her money on make-up and
expensive handbags, partying every weekend and dreaming about meeting her version of
Mr Big, the rich, smooth-talking love interest of the show’s main character, Carrie.
“I never worried about misogyny because I thought being sexually attractive was a form of
power,” says Kim. “But eventually I realised that men with real power don’t wear make-up
and expensive dresses.” Her epiphany came when she was passed over for promotion in
favour of a male colleague. “My boss said, ‘He needs it more than you because he has a
wife and a child to take care of,’ and I realised that I had been wrong to think that all I needed
to do was work hard and be good at my job.”
Kim’s burgeoning feminism crystallised in the summer of 2016, after a woman was murdered
in a public toilet in an upmarket part of Seoul. The killer initially claimed that he had done it
because he had been ignored by women. “I lived right around the corner, and I thought: that
could have been me,” says Kim. Like many other women, she was upset by media coverage
that ignored the misogynist motives for his crime and blamed it entirely on his mental-health
problems.
The murder prompted South Korean women to come together, initially in online
communities, and discuss how to fight back against sexism. Then they took to the streets.
In 2018 there was a series of protests against the widespread practice of recording illegal
footage of women by hiding small cameras in public toilets or changing rooms.
Kim founded the Woolf Social Club in 2017. “I thought, we talk to each other on the internet,
but it would be good to have a physical space in which to do that,” she says. “If you walk
around Seoul, you see all these cafés aimed at couples, where women look pretty and lower
their voices. I wanted a space where they could raise them.”
[Fonte: Lena Schipper. “Virginia Woolf is inspiring South Korean feminists”. In: The
Economist, 09/05/2022,<http://www.economist.com/1843/2022/05/09/virginia-woolf-is-inspiring-south-korean-feminists>. Adaptado. Data de acesso: 27/08/2023.]
Kim Jina was inspired by Virginia Woolf to open the Woolf Social Club because:
Q2280161
Inglês
Texto associado
Leia o texto a seguir para responder a questão
On the surface, there is little to distinguish the Woolf Social Club from any other hipster
hangout in Seoul, South Korea. Customers perch on wooden stools at formica tables,
tapping on laptops while they sip their coffee. Records and cds line the walls, soft jazz
trickles from speakers. On the white wall above the bar, in big black letters, is the statement:
“More dignity, less bullshit”.
It is only on closer inspection that you realise this is more than just another coffee shop. On
the mugs are cartoon drawings of Virginia Woolf, an angry wolf roaring from her shirt. A
bookshelf contains South Korean feminist novels and works of self-help (titles include
“Lessons on Being Unmarried”) alongside “The Second Sex” by Simone de Beauvoir and
“The Handmaid’s Tale” by Margaret Atwood. On the wall is a poster for an exhibition of
feminist art at a nearby gallery.
“I wanted a space for like-minded women to meet and talk,” says Kim Jina, a 47-year-old
former advertising executive and politician who founded the café six years ago. Kim was
inspired by Woolf’s dictum that in order to write fiction, a woman needed “five hundred
[pounds] a year and a room with a lock on the door”. That is, financial independence and a
place to think. The café’s casual vibe is deliberate: she wanted to avoid creating barriers to
entry for women who were merely curious, rather than fully committed to the movement.
Besides, she adds, “If I limited myself to feminist customers, I could never make a living.”
South Korea, even its trendy capital, is a difficult place to be a woman. The wage gap
between the sexes is the highest in the rich world. Traditional expectations about gender
roles, beauty standards and the way women should conduct themselves remain pervasive.
“Misogyny surrounds you so naturally that you barely even notice it,” says Kim. “I had no
role models, so my idea of how a successful woman should be came straight from ‘Sex and
the City’.” For much of her 20s and 30s, she spent most of her money on make-up and
expensive handbags, partying every weekend and dreaming about meeting her version of
Mr Big, the rich, smooth-talking love interest of the show’s main character, Carrie.
“I never worried about misogyny because I thought being sexually attractive was a form of
power,” says Kim. “But eventually I realised that men with real power don’t wear make-up
and expensive dresses.” Her epiphany came when she was passed over for promotion in
favour of a male colleague. “My boss said, ‘He needs it more than you because he has a
wife and a child to take care of,’ and I realised that I had been wrong to think that all I needed
to do was work hard and be good at my job.”
Kim’s burgeoning feminism crystallised in the summer of 2016, after a woman was murdered
in a public toilet in an upmarket part of Seoul. The killer initially claimed that he had done it
because he had been ignored by women. “I lived right around the corner, and I thought: that
could have been me,” says Kim. Like many other women, she was upset by media coverage
that ignored the misogynist motives for his crime and blamed it entirely on his mental-health
problems.
The murder prompted South Korean women to come together, initially in online
communities, and discuss how to fight back against sexism. Then they took to the streets.
In 2018 there was a series of protests against the widespread practice of recording illegal
footage of women by hiding small cameras in public toilets or changing rooms.
Kim founded the Woolf Social Club in 2017. “I thought, we talk to each other on the internet,
but it would be good to have a physical space in which to do that,” she says. “If you walk
around Seoul, you see all these cafés aimed at couples, where women look pretty and lower
their voices. I wanted a space where they could raise them.”
[Fonte: Lena Schipper. “Virginia Woolf is inspiring South Korean feminists”. In: The
Economist, 09/05/2022,<http://www.economist.com/1843/2022/05/09/virginia-woolf-is-inspiring-south-korean-feminists>. Adaptado. Data de acesso: 27/08/2023.]
In the excerpt from the second paragraph “A bookshelf contains South Korean
feminist novels and works of self-help (titles include “Lessons on Being Unmarried”)
alongside “The Second Sex” by Simone de Beauvoir and “The Handmaid’s Tale” by
Margaret Atwood”, the underlined word expresses an idea of:
Q2280160
Inglês
Texto associado
Leia o texto a seguir para responder a questão
On the surface, there is little to distinguish the Woolf Social Club from any other hipster
hangout in Seoul, South Korea. Customers perch on wooden stools at formica tables,
tapping on laptops while they sip their coffee. Records and cds line the walls, soft jazz
trickles from speakers. On the white wall above the bar, in big black letters, is the statement:
“More dignity, less bullshit”.
It is only on closer inspection that you realise this is more than just another coffee shop. On
the mugs are cartoon drawings of Virginia Woolf, an angry wolf roaring from her shirt. A
bookshelf contains South Korean feminist novels and works of self-help (titles include
“Lessons on Being Unmarried”) alongside “The Second Sex” by Simone de Beauvoir and
“The Handmaid’s Tale” by Margaret Atwood. On the wall is a poster for an exhibition of
feminist art at a nearby gallery.
“I wanted a space for like-minded women to meet and talk,” says Kim Jina, a 47-year-old
former advertising executive and politician who founded the café six years ago. Kim was
inspired by Woolf’s dictum that in order to write fiction, a woman needed “five hundred
[pounds] a year and a room with a lock on the door”. That is, financial independence and a
place to think. The café’s casual vibe is deliberate: she wanted to avoid creating barriers to
entry for women who were merely curious, rather than fully committed to the movement.
Besides, she adds, “If I limited myself to feminist customers, I could never make a living.”
South Korea, even its trendy capital, is a difficult place to be a woman. The wage gap
between the sexes is the highest in the rich world. Traditional expectations about gender
roles, beauty standards and the way women should conduct themselves remain pervasive.
“Misogyny surrounds you so naturally that you barely even notice it,” says Kim. “I had no
role models, so my idea of how a successful woman should be came straight from ‘Sex and
the City’.” For much of her 20s and 30s, she spent most of her money on make-up and
expensive handbags, partying every weekend and dreaming about meeting her version of
Mr Big, the rich, smooth-talking love interest of the show’s main character, Carrie.
“I never worried about misogyny because I thought being sexually attractive was a form of
power,” says Kim. “But eventually I realised that men with real power don’t wear make-up
and expensive dresses.” Her epiphany came when she was passed over for promotion in
favour of a male colleague. “My boss said, ‘He needs it more than you because he has a
wife and a child to take care of,’ and I realised that I had been wrong to think that all I needed
to do was work hard and be good at my job.”
Kim’s burgeoning feminism crystallised in the summer of 2016, after a woman was murdered
in a public toilet in an upmarket part of Seoul. The killer initially claimed that he had done it
because he had been ignored by women. “I lived right around the corner, and I thought: that
could have been me,” says Kim. Like many other women, she was upset by media coverage
that ignored the misogynist motives for his crime and blamed it entirely on his mental-health
problems.
The murder prompted South Korean women to come together, initially in online
communities, and discuss how to fight back against sexism. Then they took to the streets.
In 2018 there was a series of protests against the widespread practice of recording illegal
footage of women by hiding small cameras in public toilets or changing rooms.
Kim founded the Woolf Social Club in 2017. “I thought, we talk to each other on the internet,
but it would be good to have a physical space in which to do that,” she says. “If you walk
around Seoul, you see all these cafés aimed at couples, where women look pretty and lower
their voices. I wanted a space where they could raise them.”
[Fonte: Lena Schipper. “Virginia Woolf is inspiring South Korean feminists”. In: The
Economist, 09/05/2022,<http://www.economist.com/1843/2022/05/09/virginia-woolf-is-inspiring-south-korean-feminists>. Adaptado. Data de acesso: 27/08/2023.]
O Woolf Social Club é primordialmente um local onde
Q2280159
Inglês
Texto associado
Leia o texto a seguir para responder a questão.
Read Your Way Through Salvador
By Itamar Vieira Junior and translated by Johnny Lorenz. July 19, 2023.
I was born in Salvador, in the Brazilian state of Bahia, and lived in the general vicinity until I
reached the age of 15. But it was when I left that I really came to know my city. How was I
able to discover more about my birthplace while traveling far from home? It might sound
rather clichéd but, I assure you, literature made this possible: It took me on a journey, long
and profound, back home, enveloping me in words and imagination.
To understand the formation of our unique society and, consequently, the cityscape of
Salvador, one should read, before anything else, “The Story of Rufino: Slavery, Freedom
and Islam in the Black Atlantic,” by João José Reis, Flávio dos Santos Gomes and Marcus
J.M. de Carvalho. Rufino was an alufá, or Muslim spiritual leader, born in the Oyo empire in
present-day Nigeria and enslaved during his adolescence. “The Story of Rufino” is an epic
tale, encapsulating the life of one man in search of freedom as well as the history of the
development of Salvador itself, a place inextricably linked with the diaspora across the Black
Atlantic. Another book for which I have deep affection is “The City of Women,” by the
American anthropologist Ruth Landes. It offers an intriguing perspective, focusing on
matriarchal power in candomblé, an Afro-Brazilian sacred practice, and revealing how the
social organization of its spiritual communities reverberates across the city.
If you want to feel the intensity of life on the streets of Salvador, these two books, both by
Amado, are indispensable: “Captains of the Sands” and “Dona Flor and Her Two
Husbands.” The first is a coming-of-age story in which we follow a group of children and
adolescents living on the streets and on the beaches around the Bay of All Saints. Written
more than 80 years ago, the book was banned and even burned in the public square during
the dictatorship of Getúlio Vargas in the first half of the 20th century. As a portrait of
Salvador, it is still relevant and reveals our deep inequalities. “Dona Flor and her Two
Husbands” is one of Amado’s most popular novels, translated into more than 30 languages
and adapted many times for theater, cinema, and television. The book is a kind of manifesto
for a woman’s liberation. Dona Flor possesses great culinary talent, and oppressed by a
patriarchal society, finds herself divided between two men, one being her deceased
husband. While the novel captures the daily life of the city in the 1940s, it is also a wonderful
guide to the cuisine of Salvador, with its African and Portuguese influences.
I invite readers to travel into the interior of Bahia, many hours by car from Salvador to the
region known as the Sertão, whose name translates loosely to “backwoods.” Two books can
also transport you there, and they are sides of the same story: “Backlands: The Canudos
Campaign,” by Euclides da Cunha, and “The War of the End of the World,” by Mario
Vargas Llosa.
“Backlands” is one of the most important works in the history of Brazilian literature. It is a
journalistic telling that introduces us not only to the brutal War of Canudos, but also to the
intriguing landscape of the Sertão, a place so full of contradictions. In his writing of the
conflict, da Cunha tells the story of the genesis of the tough sertanejo: a mythic,
cowboyesque figure of the drought-stricken, lawless interior. “The War of the End of the
World” is an essential epic that amplifies the narrative of “Backlands,” bringing a more imaginative, creative aspect to the story of Antônio Conselheiro, the spiritual leader of a
rebellion, and of the multitude that followed him to their deaths.
[Fonte: “Read Your Way Through Salvador”. In: The New York Times, 19/07/2023,<http://www.nytimes.com/2023/07/19/books/salvador-bahia-brazil-books.html> . Adaptado. Data
de acesso: 01/09/2023.]
According to the information about the two books presented in the fourth and
fifth paragraphs,
Q2280158
Inglês
Texto associado
Leia o texto a seguir para responder a questão.
Read Your Way Through Salvador
By Itamar Vieira Junior and translated by Johnny Lorenz. July 19, 2023.
I was born in Salvador, in the Brazilian state of Bahia, and lived in the general vicinity until I
reached the age of 15. But it was when I left that I really came to know my city. How was I
able to discover more about my birthplace while traveling far from home? It might sound
rather clichéd but, I assure you, literature made this possible: It took me on a journey, long
and profound, back home, enveloping me in words and imagination.
To understand the formation of our unique society and, consequently, the cityscape of
Salvador, one should read, before anything else, “The Story of Rufino: Slavery, Freedom
and Islam in the Black Atlantic,” by João José Reis, Flávio dos Santos Gomes and Marcus
J.M. de Carvalho. Rufino was an alufá, or Muslim spiritual leader, born in the Oyo empire in
present-day Nigeria and enslaved during his adolescence. “The Story of Rufino” is an epic
tale, encapsulating the life of one man in search of freedom as well as the history of the
development of Salvador itself, a place inextricably linked with the diaspora across the Black
Atlantic. Another book for which I have deep affection is “The City of Women,” by the
American anthropologist Ruth Landes. It offers an intriguing perspective, focusing on
matriarchal power in candomblé, an Afro-Brazilian sacred practice, and revealing how the
social organization of its spiritual communities reverberates across the city.
If you want to feel the intensity of life on the streets of Salvador, these two books, both by
Amado, are indispensable: “Captains of the Sands” and “Dona Flor and Her Two
Husbands.” The first is a coming-of-age story in which we follow a group of children and
adolescents living on the streets and on the beaches around the Bay of All Saints. Written
more than 80 years ago, the book was banned and even burned in the public square during
the dictatorship of Getúlio Vargas in the first half of the 20th century. As a portrait of
Salvador, it is still relevant and reveals our deep inequalities. “Dona Flor and her Two
Husbands” is one of Amado’s most popular novels, translated into more than 30 languages
and adapted many times for theater, cinema, and television. The book is a kind of manifesto
for a woman’s liberation. Dona Flor possesses great culinary talent, and oppressed by a
patriarchal society, finds herself divided between two men, one being her deceased
husband. While the novel captures the daily life of the city in the 1940s, it is also a wonderful
guide to the cuisine of Salvador, with its African and Portuguese influences.
I invite readers to travel into the interior of Bahia, many hours by car from Salvador to the
region known as the Sertão, whose name translates loosely to “backwoods.” Two books can
also transport you there, and they are sides of the same story: “Backlands: The Canudos
Campaign,” by Euclides da Cunha, and “The War of the End of the World,” by Mario
Vargas Llosa.
“Backlands” is one of the most important works in the history of Brazilian literature. It is a
journalistic telling that introduces us not only to the brutal War of Canudos, but also to the
intriguing landscape of the Sertão, a place so full of contradictions. In his writing of the
conflict, da Cunha tells the story of the genesis of the tough sertanejo: a mythic,
cowboyesque figure of the drought-stricken, lawless interior. “The War of the End of the
World” is an essential epic that amplifies the narrative of “Backlands,” bringing a more imaginative, creative aspect to the story of Antônio Conselheiro, the spiritual leader of a
rebellion, and of the multitude that followed him to their deaths.
[Fonte: “Read Your Way Through Salvador”. In: The New York Times, 19/07/2023,<http://www.nytimes.com/2023/07/19/books/salvador-bahia-brazil-books.html> . Adaptado. Data
de acesso: 01/09/2023.]
No trecho do terceiro parágrafo “While the novel captures the daily life of the
city in the 1940s, it is also a wonderful guide to the cuisine of Salvador” o termo sublinhado
pode ser substituído, sem alteração de sentido, por:
Q2280157
Inglês
Texto associado
Leia o texto a seguir para responder a questão.
Read Your Way Through Salvador
By Itamar Vieira Junior and translated by Johnny Lorenz. July 19, 2023.
I was born in Salvador, in the Brazilian state of Bahia, and lived in the general vicinity until I
reached the age of 15. But it was when I left that I really came to know my city. How was I
able to discover more about my birthplace while traveling far from home? It might sound
rather clichéd but, I assure you, literature made this possible: It took me on a journey, long
and profound, back home, enveloping me in words and imagination.
To understand the formation of our unique society and, consequently, the cityscape of
Salvador, one should read, before anything else, “The Story of Rufino: Slavery, Freedom
and Islam in the Black Atlantic,” by João José Reis, Flávio dos Santos Gomes and Marcus
J.M. de Carvalho. Rufino was an alufá, or Muslim spiritual leader, born in the Oyo empire in
present-day Nigeria and enslaved during his adolescence. “The Story of Rufino” is an epic
tale, encapsulating the life of one man in search of freedom as well as the history of the
development of Salvador itself, a place inextricably linked with the diaspora across the Black
Atlantic. Another book for which I have deep affection is “The City of Women,” by the
American anthropologist Ruth Landes. It offers an intriguing perspective, focusing on
matriarchal power in candomblé, an Afro-Brazilian sacred practice, and revealing how the
social organization of its spiritual communities reverberates across the city.
If you want to feel the intensity of life on the streets of Salvador, these two books, both by
Amado, are indispensable: “Captains of the Sands” and “Dona Flor and Her Two
Husbands.” The first is a coming-of-age story in which we follow a group of children and
adolescents living on the streets and on the beaches around the Bay of All Saints. Written
more than 80 years ago, the book was banned and even burned in the public square during
the dictatorship of Getúlio Vargas in the first half of the 20th century. As a portrait of
Salvador, it is still relevant and reveals our deep inequalities. “Dona Flor and her Two
Husbands” is one of Amado’s most popular novels, translated into more than 30 languages
and adapted many times for theater, cinema, and television. The book is a kind of manifesto
for a woman’s liberation. Dona Flor possesses great culinary talent, and oppressed by a
patriarchal society, finds herself divided between two men, one being her deceased
husband. While the novel captures the daily life of the city in the 1940s, it is also a wonderful
guide to the cuisine of Salvador, with its African and Portuguese influences.
I invite readers to travel into the interior of Bahia, many hours by car from Salvador to the
region known as the Sertão, whose name translates loosely to “backwoods.” Two books can
also transport you there, and they are sides of the same story: “Backlands: The Canudos
Campaign,” by Euclides da Cunha, and “The War of the End of the World,” by Mario
Vargas Llosa.
“Backlands” is one of the most important works in the history of Brazilian literature. It is a
journalistic telling that introduces us not only to the brutal War of Canudos, but also to the
intriguing landscape of the Sertão, a place so full of contradictions. In his writing of the
conflict, da Cunha tells the story of the genesis of the tough sertanejo: a mythic,
cowboyesque figure of the drought-stricken, lawless interior. “The War of the End of the
World” is an essential epic that amplifies the narrative of “Backlands,” bringing a more imaginative, creative aspect to the story of Antônio Conselheiro, the spiritual leader of a
rebellion, and of the multitude that followed him to their deaths.
[Fonte: “Read Your Way Through Salvador”. In: The New York Times, 19/07/2023,<http://www.nytimes.com/2023/07/19/books/salvador-bahia-brazil-books.html> . Adaptado. Data
de acesso: 01/09/2023.]
No trecho do terceiro parágrafo “As a portrait of Salvador, it is still relevant and
reveals our deep inequalities”, o termo sublinhado contém um prefixo de negação. Assinale
a alternativa que apresenta o termo que NÃO contém prefixo de negação.
Q2280156
Inglês
Texto associado
Leia o texto a seguir para responder a questão.
Read Your Way Through Salvador
By Itamar Vieira Junior and translated by Johnny Lorenz. July 19, 2023.
I was born in Salvador, in the Brazilian state of Bahia, and lived in the general vicinity until I
reached the age of 15. But it was when I left that I really came to know my city. How was I
able to discover more about my birthplace while traveling far from home? It might sound
rather clichéd but, I assure you, literature made this possible: It took me on a journey, long
and profound, back home, enveloping me in words and imagination.
To understand the formation of our unique society and, consequently, the cityscape of
Salvador, one should read, before anything else, “The Story of Rufino: Slavery, Freedom
and Islam in the Black Atlantic,” by João José Reis, Flávio dos Santos Gomes and Marcus
J.M. de Carvalho. Rufino was an alufá, or Muslim spiritual leader, born in the Oyo empire in
present-day Nigeria and enslaved during his adolescence. “The Story of Rufino” is an epic
tale, encapsulating the life of one man in search of freedom as well as the history of the
development of Salvador itself, a place inextricably linked with the diaspora across the Black
Atlantic. Another book for which I have deep affection is “The City of Women,” by the
American anthropologist Ruth Landes. It offers an intriguing perspective, focusing on
matriarchal power in candomblé, an Afro-Brazilian sacred practice, and revealing how the
social organization of its spiritual communities reverberates across the city.
If you want to feel the intensity of life on the streets of Salvador, these two books, both by
Amado, are indispensable: “Captains of the Sands” and “Dona Flor and Her Two
Husbands.” The first is a coming-of-age story in which we follow a group of children and
adolescents living on the streets and on the beaches around the Bay of All Saints. Written
more than 80 years ago, the book was banned and even burned in the public square during
the dictatorship of Getúlio Vargas in the first half of the 20th century. As a portrait of
Salvador, it is still relevant and reveals our deep inequalities. “Dona Flor and her Two
Husbands” is one of Amado’s most popular novels, translated into more than 30 languages
and adapted many times for theater, cinema, and television. The book is a kind of manifesto
for a woman’s liberation. Dona Flor possesses great culinary talent, and oppressed by a
patriarchal society, finds herself divided between two men, one being her deceased
husband. While the novel captures the daily life of the city in the 1940s, it is also a wonderful
guide to the cuisine of Salvador, with its African and Portuguese influences.
I invite readers to travel into the interior of Bahia, many hours by car from Salvador to the
region known as the Sertão, whose name translates loosely to “backwoods.” Two books can
also transport you there, and they are sides of the same story: “Backlands: The Canudos
Campaign,” by Euclides da Cunha, and “The War of the End of the World,” by Mario
Vargas Llosa.
“Backlands” is one of the most important works in the history of Brazilian literature. It is a
journalistic telling that introduces us not only to the brutal War of Canudos, but also to the
intriguing landscape of the Sertão, a place so full of contradictions. In his writing of the
conflict, da Cunha tells the story of the genesis of the tough sertanejo: a mythic,
cowboyesque figure of the drought-stricken, lawless interior. “The War of the End of the
World” is an essential epic that amplifies the narrative of “Backlands,” bringing a more imaginative, creative aspect to the story of Antônio Conselheiro, the spiritual leader of a
rebellion, and of the multitude that followed him to their deaths.
[Fonte: “Read Your Way Through Salvador”. In: The New York Times, 19/07/2023,<http://www.nytimes.com/2023/07/19/books/salvador-bahia-brazil-books.html> . Adaptado. Data
de acesso: 01/09/2023.]
The two books that present same gender main characters around which the
action centers are:
Q2280155
Inglês
Texto associado
Leia o texto a seguir para responder a questão.
Read Your Way Through Salvador
By Itamar Vieira Junior and translated by Johnny Lorenz. July 19, 2023.
I was born in Salvador, in the Brazilian state of Bahia, and lived in the general vicinity until I
reached the age of 15. But it was when I left that I really came to know my city. How was I
able to discover more about my birthplace while traveling far from home? It might sound
rather clichéd but, I assure you, literature made this possible: It took me on a journey, long
and profound, back home, enveloping me in words and imagination.
To understand the formation of our unique society and, consequently, the cityscape of
Salvador, one should read, before anything else, “The Story of Rufino: Slavery, Freedom
and Islam in the Black Atlantic,” by João José Reis, Flávio dos Santos Gomes and Marcus
J.M. de Carvalho. Rufino was an alufá, or Muslim spiritual leader, born in the Oyo empire in
present-day Nigeria and enslaved during his adolescence. “The Story of Rufino” is an epic
tale, encapsulating the life of one man in search of freedom as well as the history of the
development of Salvador itself, a place inextricably linked with the diaspora across the Black
Atlantic. Another book for which I have deep affection is “The City of Women,” by the
American anthropologist Ruth Landes. It offers an intriguing perspective, focusing on
matriarchal power in candomblé, an Afro-Brazilian sacred practice, and revealing how the
social organization of its spiritual communities reverberates across the city.
If you want to feel the intensity of life on the streets of Salvador, these two books, both by
Amado, are indispensable: “Captains of the Sands” and “Dona Flor and Her Two
Husbands.” The first is a coming-of-age story in which we follow a group of children and
adolescents living on the streets and on the beaches around the Bay of All Saints. Written
more than 80 years ago, the book was banned and even burned in the public square during
the dictatorship of Getúlio Vargas in the first half of the 20th century. As a portrait of
Salvador, it is still relevant and reveals our deep inequalities. “Dona Flor and her Two
Husbands” is one of Amado’s most popular novels, translated into more than 30 languages
and adapted many times for theater, cinema, and television. The book is a kind of manifesto
for a woman’s liberation. Dona Flor possesses great culinary talent, and oppressed by a
patriarchal society, finds herself divided between two men, one being her deceased
husband. While the novel captures the daily life of the city in the 1940s, it is also a wonderful
guide to the cuisine of Salvador, with its African and Portuguese influences.
I invite readers to travel into the interior of Bahia, many hours by car from Salvador to the
region known as the Sertão, whose name translates loosely to “backwoods.” Two books can
also transport you there, and they are sides of the same story: “Backlands: The Canudos
Campaign,” by Euclides da Cunha, and “The War of the End of the World,” by Mario
Vargas Llosa.
“Backlands” is one of the most important works in the history of Brazilian literature. It is a
journalistic telling that introduces us not only to the brutal War of Canudos, but also to the
intriguing landscape of the Sertão, a place so full of contradictions. In his writing of the
conflict, da Cunha tells the story of the genesis of the tough sertanejo: a mythic,
cowboyesque figure of the drought-stricken, lawless interior. “The War of the End of the
World” is an essential epic that amplifies the narrative of “Backlands,” bringing a more imaginative, creative aspect to the story of Antônio Conselheiro, the spiritual leader of a
rebellion, and of the multitude that followed him to their deaths.
[Fonte: “Read Your Way Through Salvador”. In: The New York Times, 19/07/2023,<http://www.nytimes.com/2023/07/19/books/salvador-bahia-brazil-books.html> . Adaptado. Data
de acesso: 01/09/2023.]
According to the text, the author recommends the book “The Story of Rufino:
Slavery, Freedom and Islam in the Black Atlantic” for the reader to
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