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Question based on the following passages.Passage 1 is adapted from an essay written by John Aldridge in 1951. ©1951 by John Aldridge. Passage 2 is adapted from Brom Weber, "Ernest Hemingways Genteel Bullfight," published in The American Novel and the Nineteen Twenties. ©1971 by Hodder Education.Passage 1By the time we were old enough to readHemingway, he had become legendary. LikeLord Byron a century earlier, he had learnedto play himself, his own best hero, with superb(5) conviction. He was Hemingway of the ruggedoutdoor grin and the hairy chest posing beside alion he had just shot. He was Tarzan Hemingway,crouching in the African bush with elephant gunat ready. He was War Correspondent Hemingway(10) writing a play in the Hotel Florida in Madridwhile thirty fascist shells crashed throughthe roof. Later, he was Task Force Hemingwayswathed in ammunition belts and defendinghis post singlehandedly against fierce German(15) attacks.But even without the legend, the chestbeating, wisecracking pose that was later toseem so incredibly absurd, his impact upon uswas tremendous. The feeling he gave us was one(20) of immense expansiveness, freedom and, at thesame time, absolute stability and control. Wecould follow him, imitate his cold detachment,through all the doubts and fears of adolescenceand come out pure and untouched. The words(25) he put down seemed to us to have been carvedfrom the living stone of life. They conveyedexactly the taste, smell and feel of experience asit was, as it might possibly be. And so we beganunconsciously to translate our own sensations(30) into their terms and to impose on everythingwe did and felt the particular emotions theyaroused in us.The Hemingway time was a good time tobe young. We had much then that the war later(35) forced out of us, something far greater thanHemingways strong formative influence.Later writers who lost or got rid of Hemingwayhave been able to find nothing to put in hisplace. They have rejected his time as untrue(40) for them only to fail at finding themselves in theirown time. Others, in their embarrassment at thehold he once had over them, have not profitedby the lessons he had to teach, and still otherswere never touched by him at all. These last are(45) perhaps the real unfortunates, for they have beendenied access to a powerful tradition.Passage 2One wonders why Hemingways greatestworks now seem unable to evoke the same senseof a tottering world that in the 1920s established(50) Ernest Hemingways reputation. These novelsshould be speaking to us. Our social structureis as shaken, our philosophical despair as great,our everyday experience as unsatisfying. We havehad more war than Hemingway ever dreamed(55) of. Our violence—physical, emotional, andintellectual—is not inferior to that of the 1920s.Yet Hemingways great novels no longer seem topenetrate deeply the surface of existence.One begins to doubt that they ever did so significantly(60) in the 1920s.Hemingways novels indulged the dominantgenteel tradition in American culture whileseeming to repudiate it. They yielded to thefunctionalist, technological aesthetic of the(65) culture instead of resisting in the manner ofFrank Lloyd Wright. Hemingway, in effect, became adupe of his culture rather than its moral-aestheticconscience. As a consequence, the import of hiswork has diminished. There is some evidence(70) from his stylistic evolution that Hemingwayhimself must have felt as much, for Hemingwaysfamous stylistic economy frequently seems toconceal another kind of writer, with much richerrhetorical resources to hand. So, Death in the(75) Afternoon (1932), Hemingways bullfightingopus and his first book after A Farewell to Arms(1929), reveals great uneasiness over his earlieraccomplishment. In it, he defends his literarymethod with a doctrine of ambiguity: “If a writer(80) of prose knows enough about what he is writingabout he may omit things that he knows andthe reader, if the writer is writing truly enough,will have a feeling of those things as strongly asthough the writer had stated them.”(85) Hemingway made much the same theoreticalpoint in another way in Death in the Afternoonapparently believing that a formal reduction ofaesthetic complexity was the only kind of designthat had value.(90) Perhaps the greatest irony of Death in theAfternoon is its unmistakably baroque prose,which Hemingway himself embarrassedlyadmitted was “flowery.” Reviewers, unable tochallenge Hemingways expertise in the art of(95) bullfighting, noted that its style was “awkward,tortuous, [and] belligerently clumsy.”Death in the Afternoon is an extraordinarilyself-indulgent, unruly, clownish, garrulous,and satiric book, with scrambled chronologies,(100) willful digressions, mock-scholarly apparatuses,fictional interludes, and scathing allusions. Itsinflated style can hardly penetrate the fagade, letalone deflate humanity.Q.Which pair of sentences provides the strongest evidence for the answer to the previous question?a)Lines 5–7 (“He was . . . just shot”) and lines 85–89 (“Hemingway . . . had value”)b)Lines 37–39 (“Later writers . . . his place”) and lines 55–56 (“Our violence . . . the 1920s”)c)Lines 24–26 (“The words . . . stone of life”) and lines 57–58 (“Yet . . . existence”)d)Lines 34–36 (“We had much . . . influence”) and lines 90–93 (“Perhaps the greatest . . . was ‘flowery’”)Correct answer is option 'C'. Can you explain this answer? for SAT 2025 is part of SAT preparation. The Question and answers have been prepared according to the SAT exam syllabus. Information about Question based on the following passages.Passage 1 is adapted from an essay written by John Aldridge in 1951. ©1951 by John Aldridge. Passage 2 is adapted from Brom Weber, "Ernest Hemingways Genteel Bullfight," published in The American Novel and the Nineteen Twenties. ©1971 by Hodder Education.Passage 1By the time we were old enough to readHemingway, he had become legendary. LikeLord Byron a century earlier, he had learnedto play himself, his own best hero, with superb(5) conviction. He was Hemingway of the ruggedoutdoor grin and the hairy chest posing beside alion he had just shot. He was Tarzan Hemingway,crouching in the African bush with elephant gunat ready. He was War Correspondent Hemingway(10) writing a play in the Hotel Florida in Madridwhile thirty fascist shells crashed throughthe roof. Later, he was Task Force Hemingwayswathed in ammunition belts and defendinghis post singlehandedly against fierce German(15) attacks.But even without the legend, the chestbeating, wisecracking pose that was later toseem so incredibly absurd, his impact upon uswas tremendous. The feeling he gave us was one(20) of immense expansiveness, freedom and, at thesame time, absolute stability and control. Wecould follow him, imitate his cold detachment,through all the doubts and fears of adolescenceand come out pure and untouched. The words(25) he put down seemed to us to have been carvedfrom the living stone of life. They conveyedexactly the taste, smell and feel of experience asit was, as it might possibly be. And so we beganunconsciously to translate our own sensations(30) into their terms and to impose on everythingwe did and felt the particular emotions theyaroused in us.The Hemingway time was a good time tobe young. We had much then that the war later(35) forced out of us, something far greater thanHemingways strong formative influence.Later writers who lost or got rid of Hemingwayhave been able to find nothing to put in hisplace. They have rejected his time as untrue(40) for them only to fail at finding themselves in theirown time. Others, in their embarrassment at thehold he once had over them, have not profitedby the lessons he had to teach, and still otherswere never touched by him at all. These last are(45) perhaps the real unfortunates, for they have beendenied access to a powerful tradition.Passage 2One wonders why Hemingways greatestworks now seem unable to evoke the same senseof a tottering world that in the 1920s established(50) Ernest Hemingways reputation. These novelsshould be speaking to us. Our social structureis as shaken, our philosophical despair as great,our everyday experience as unsatisfying. We havehad more war than Hemingway ever dreamed(55) of. Our violence—physical, emotional, andintellectual—is not inferior to that of the 1920s.Yet Hemingways great novels no longer seem topenetrate deeply the surface of existence.One begins to doubt that they ever did so significantly(60) in the 1920s.Hemingways novels indulged the dominantgenteel tradition in American culture whileseeming to repudiate it. They yielded to thefunctionalist, technological aesthetic of the(65) culture instead of resisting in the manner ofFrank Lloyd Wright. Hemingway, in effect, became adupe of his culture rather than its moral-aestheticconscience. As a consequence, the import of hiswork has diminished. There is some evidence(70) from his stylistic evolution that Hemingwayhimself must have felt as much, for Hemingwaysfamous stylistic economy frequently seems toconceal another kind of writer, with much richerrhetorical resources to hand. So, Death in the(75) Afternoon (1932), Hemingways bullfightingopus and his first book after A Farewell to Arms(1929), reveals great uneasiness over his earlieraccomplishment. In it, he defends his literarymethod with a doctrine of ambiguity: “If a writer(80) of prose knows enough about what he is writingabout he may omit things that he knows andthe reader, if the writer is writing truly enough,will have a feeling of those things as strongly asthough the writer had stated them.”(85) Hemingway made much the same theoreticalpoint in another way in Death in the Afternoonapparently believing that a formal reduction ofaesthetic complexity was the only kind of designthat had value.(90) Perhaps the greatest irony of Death in theAfternoon is its unmistakably baroque prose,which Hemingway himself embarrassedlyadmitted was “flowery.” Reviewers, unable tochallenge Hemingways expertise in the art of(95) bullfighting, noted that its style was “awkward,tortuous, [and] belligerently clumsy.”Death in the Afternoon is an extraordinarilyself-indulgent, unruly, clownish, garrulous,and satiric book, with scrambled chronologies,(100) willful digressions, mock-scholarly apparatuses,fictional interludes, and scathing allusions. Itsinflated style can hardly penetrate the fagade, letalone deflate humanity.Q.Which pair of sentences provides the strongest evidence for the answer to the previous question?a)Lines 5–7 (“He was . . . just shot”) and lines 85–89 (“Hemingway . . . had value”)b)Lines 37–39 (“Later writers . . . his place”) and lines 55–56 (“Our violence . . . the 1920s”)c)Lines 24–26 (“The words . . . stone of life”) and lines 57–58 (“Yet . . . existence”)d)Lines 34–36 (“We had much . . . influence”) and lines 90–93 (“Perhaps the greatest . . . was ‘flowery’”)Correct answer is option 'C'. Can you explain this answer? covers all topics & solutions for SAT 2025 Exam. Find important definitions, questions, meanings, examples, exercises and tests below for Question based on the following passages.Passage 1 is adapted from an essay written by John Aldridge in 1951. ©1951 by John Aldridge. Passage 2 is adapted from Brom Weber, "Ernest Hemingways Genteel Bullfight," published in The American Novel and the Nineteen Twenties. ©1971 by Hodder Education.Passage 1By the time we were old enough to readHemingway, he had become legendary. LikeLord Byron a century earlier, he had learnedto play himself, his own best hero, with superb(5) conviction. He was Hemingway of the ruggedoutdoor grin and the hairy chest posing beside alion he had just shot. He was Tarzan Hemingway,crouching in the African bush with elephant gunat ready. He was War Correspondent Hemingway(10) writing a play in the Hotel Florida in Madridwhile thirty fascist shells crashed throughthe roof. Later, he was Task Force Hemingwayswathed in ammunition belts and defendinghis post singlehandedly against fierce German(15) attacks.But even without the legend, the chestbeating, wisecracking pose that was later toseem so incredibly absurd, his impact upon uswas tremendous. The feeling he gave us was one(20) of immense expansiveness, freedom and, at thesame time, absolute stability and control. Wecould follow him, imitate his cold detachment,through all the doubts and fears of adolescenceand come out pure and untouched. The words(25) he put down seemed to us to have been carvedfrom the living stone of life. They conveyedexactly the taste, smell and feel of experience asit was, as it might possibly be. And so we beganunconsciously to translate our own sensations(30) into their terms and to impose on everythingwe did and felt the particular emotions theyaroused in us.The Hemingway time was a good time tobe young. We had much then that the war later(35) forced out of us, something far greater thanHemingways strong formative influence.Later writers who lost or got rid of Hemingwayhave been able to find nothing to put in hisplace. They have rejected his time as untrue(40) for them only to fail at finding themselves in theirown time. Others, in their embarrassment at thehold he once had over them, have not profitedby the lessons he had to teach, and still otherswere never touched by him at all. These last are(45) perhaps the real unfortunates, for they have beendenied access to a powerful tradition.Passage 2One wonders why Hemingways greatestworks now seem unable to evoke the same senseof a tottering world that in the 1920s established(50) Ernest Hemingways reputation. These novelsshould be speaking to us. Our social structureis as shaken, our philosophical despair as great,our everyday experience as unsatisfying. We havehad more war than Hemingway ever dreamed(55) of. Our violence—physical, emotional, andintellectual—is not inferior to that of the 1920s.Yet Hemingways great novels no longer seem topenetrate deeply the surface of existence.One begins to doubt that they ever did so significantly(60) in the 1920s.Hemingways novels indulged the dominantgenteel tradition in American culture whileseeming to repudiate it. They yielded to thefunctionalist, technological aesthetic of the(65) culture instead of resisting in the manner ofFrank Lloyd Wright. Hemingway, in effect, became adupe of his culture rather than its moral-aestheticconscience. As a consequence, the import of hiswork has diminished. There is some evidence(70) from his stylistic evolution that Hemingwayhimself must have felt as much, for Hemingwaysfamous stylistic economy frequently seems toconceal another kind of writer, with much richerrhetorical resources to hand. So, Death in the(75) Afternoon (1932), Hemingways bullfightingopus and his first book after A Farewell to Arms(1929), reveals great uneasiness over his earlieraccomplishment. In it, he defends his literarymethod with a doctrine of ambiguity: “If a writer(80) of prose knows enough about what he is writingabout he may omit things that he knows andthe reader, if the writer is writing truly enough,will have a feeling of those things as strongly asthough the writer had stated them.”(85) Hemingway made much the same theoreticalpoint in another way in Death in the Afternoonapparently believing that a formal reduction ofaesthetic complexity was the only kind of designthat had value.(90) Perhaps the greatest irony of Death in theAfternoon is its unmistakably baroque prose,which Hemingway himself embarrassedlyadmitted was “flowery.” Reviewers, unable tochallenge Hemingways expertise in the art of(95) bullfighting, noted that its style was “awkward,tortuous, [and] belligerently clumsy.”Death in the Afternoon is an extraordinarilyself-indulgent, unruly, clownish, garrulous,and satiric book, with scrambled chronologies,(100) willful digressions, mock-scholarly apparatuses,fictional interludes, and scathing allusions. Itsinflated style can hardly penetrate the fagade, letalone deflate humanity.Q.Which pair of sentences provides the strongest evidence for the answer to the previous question?a)Lines 5–7 (“He was . . . just shot”) and lines 85–89 (“Hemingway . . . had value”)b)Lines 37–39 (“Later writers . . . his place”) and lines 55–56 (“Our violence . . . the 1920s”)c)Lines 24–26 (“The words . . . stone of life”) and lines 57–58 (“Yet . . . existence”)d)Lines 34–36 (“We had much . . . influence”) and lines 90–93 (“Perhaps the greatest . . . was ‘flowery’”)Correct answer is option 'C'. Can you explain this answer?.

Solutions for Question based on the following passages.Passage 1 is adapted from an essay written by John Aldridge in 1951. ©1951 by John Aldridge. Passage 2 is adapted from Brom Weber, "Ernest Hemingways Genteel Bullfight," published in The American Novel and the Nineteen Twenties. ©1971 by Hodder Education.Passage 1By the time we were old enough to readHemingway, he had become legendary. LikeLord Byron a century earlier, he had learnedto play himself, his own best hero, with superb(5) conviction. He was Hemingway of the ruggedoutdoor grin and the hairy chest posing beside alion he had just shot. He was Tarzan Hemingway,crouching in the African bush with elephant gunat ready. He was War Correspondent Hemingway(10) writing a play in the Hotel Florida in Madridwhile thirty fascist shells crashed throughthe roof. Later, he was Task Force Hemingwayswathed in ammunition belts and defendinghis post singlehandedly against fierce German(15) attacks.But even without the legend, the chestbeating, wisecracking pose that was later toseem so incredibly absurd, his impact upon uswas tremendous. The feeling he gave us was one(20) of immense expansiveness, freedom and, at thesame time, absolute stability and control. Wecould follow him, imitate his cold detachment,through all the doubts and fears of adolescenceand come out pure and untouched. The words(25) he put down seemed to us to have been carvedfrom the living stone of life. They conveyedexactly the taste, smell and feel of experience asit was, as it might possibly be. And so we beganunconsciously to translate our own sensations(30) into their terms and to impose on everythingwe did and felt the particular emotions theyaroused in us.The Hemingway time was a good time tobe young. We had much then that the war later(35) forced out of us, something far greater thanHemingways strong formative influence.Later writers who lost or got rid of Hemingwayhave been able to find nothing to put in hisplace. They have rejected his time as untrue(40) for them only to fail at finding themselves in theirown time. Others, in their embarrassment at thehold he once had over them, have not profitedby the lessons he had to teach, and still otherswere never touched by him at all. These last are(45) perhaps the real unfortunates, for they have beendenied access to a powerful tradition.Passage 2One wonders why Hemingways greatestworks now seem unable to evoke the same senseof a tottering world that in the 1920s established(50) Ernest Hemingways reputation. These novelsshould be speaking to us. Our social structureis as shaken, our philosophical despair as great,our everyday experience as unsatisfying. We havehad more war than Hemingway ever dreamed(55) of. Our violence—physical, emotional, andintellectual—is not inferior to that of the 1920s.Yet Hemingways great novels no longer seem topenetrate deeply the surface of existence.One begins to doubt that they ever did so significantly(60) in the 1920s.Hemingways novels indulged the dominantgenteel tradition in American culture whileseeming to repudiate it. They yielded to thefunctionalist, technological aesthetic of the(65) culture instead of resisting in the manner ofFrank Lloyd Wright. Hemingway, in effect, became adupe of his culture rather than its moral-aestheticconscience. As a consequence, the import of hiswork has diminished. There is some evidence(70) from his stylistic evolution that Hemingwayhimself must have felt as much, for Hemingwaysfamous stylistic economy frequently seems toconceal another kind of writer, with much richerrhetorical resources to hand. So, Death in the(75) Afternoon (1932), Hemingways bullfightingopus and his first book after A Farewell to Arms(1929), reveals great uneasiness over his earlieraccomplishment. In it, he defends his literarymethod with a doctrine of ambiguity: “If a writer(80) of prose knows enough about what he is writingabout he may omit things that he knows andthe reader, if the writer is writing truly enough,will have a feeling of those things as strongly asthough the writer had stated them.”(85) Hemingway made much the same theoreticalpoint in another way in Death in the Afternoonapparently believing that a formal reduction ofaesthetic complexity was the only kind of designthat had value.(90) Perhaps the greatest irony of Death in theAfternoon is its unmistakably baroque prose,which Hemingway himself embarrassedlyadmitted was “flowery.” Reviewers, unable tochallenge Hemingways expertise in the art of(95) bullfighting, noted that its style was “awkward,tortuous, [and] belligerently clumsy.”Death in the Afternoon is an extraordinarilyself-indulgent, unruly, clownish, garrulous,and satiric book, with scrambled chronologies,(100) willful digressions, mock-scholarly apparatuses,fictional interludes, and scathing allusions. Itsinflated style can hardly penetrate the fagade, letalone deflate humanity.Q.Which pair of sentences provides the strongest evidence for the answer to the previous question?a)Lines 5–7 (“He was . . . just shot”) and lines 85–89 (“Hemingway . . . had value”)b)Lines 37–39 (“Later writers . . . his place”) and lines 55–56 (“Our violence . . . the 1920s”)c)Lines 24–26 (“The words . . . stone of life”) and lines 57–58 (“Yet . . . existence”)d)Lines 34–36 (“We had much . . . influence”) and lines 90–93 (“Perhaps the greatest . . . was ‘flowery’”)Correct answer is option 'C'. Can you explain this answer? in English & in Hindi are available as part of our courses for SAT. Download more important topics, notes, lectures and mock test series for SAT Exam by signing up for free.

Here you can find the meaning of Question based on the following passages.Passage 1 is adapted from an essay written by John Aldridge in 1951. ©1951 by John Aldridge. Passage 2 is adapted from Brom Weber, "Ernest Hemingways Genteel Bullfight," published in The American Novel and the Nineteen Twenties. ©1971 by Hodder Education.Passage 1By the time we were old enough to readHemingway, he had become legendary. LikeLord Byron a century earlier, he had learnedto play himself, his own best hero, with superb(5) conviction. He was Hemingway of the ruggedoutdoor grin and the hairy chest posing beside alion he had just shot. He was Tarzan Hemingway,crouching in the African bush with elephant gunat ready. He was War Correspondent Hemingway(10) writing a play in the Hotel Florida in Madridwhile thirty fascist shells crashed throughthe roof. Later, he was Task Force Hemingwayswathed in ammunition belts and defendinghis post singlehandedly against fierce German(15) attacks.But even without the legend, the chestbeating, wisecracking pose that was later toseem so incredibly absurd, his impact upon uswas tremendous. The feeling he gave us was one(20) of immense expansiveness, freedom and, at thesame time, absolute stability and control. Wecould follow him, imitate his cold detachment,through all the doubts and fears of adolescenceand come out pure and untouched. The words(25) he put down seemed to us to have been carvedfrom the living stone of life. They conveyedexactly the taste, smell and feel of experience asit was, as it might possibly be. And so we beganunconsciously to translate our own sensations(30) into their terms and to impose on everythingwe did and felt the particular emotions theyaroused in us.The Hemingway time was a good time tobe young. We had much then that the war later(35) forced out of us, something far greater thanHemingways strong formative influence.Later writers who lost or got rid of Hemingwayhave been able to find nothing to put in hisplace. They have rejected his time as untrue(40) for them only to fail at finding themselves in theirown time. Others, in their embarrassment at thehold he once had over them, have not profitedby the lessons he had to teach, and still otherswere never touched by him at all. These last are(45) perhaps the real unfortunates, for they have beendenied access to a powerful tradition.Passage 2One wonders why Hemingways greatestworks now seem unable to evoke the same senseof a tottering world that in the 1920s established(50) Ernest Hemingways reputation. These novelsshould be speaking to us. Our social structureis as shaken, our philosophical despair as great,our everyday experience as unsatisfying. We havehad more war than Hemingway ever dreamed(55) of. Our violence—physical, emotional, andintellectual—is not inferior to that of the 1920s.Yet Hemingways great novels no longer seem topenetrate deeply the surface of existence.One begins to doubt that they ever did so significantly(60) in the 1920s.Hemingways novels indulged the dominantgenteel tradition in American culture whileseeming to repudiate it. They yielded to thefunctionalist, technological aesthetic of the(65) culture instead of resisting in the manner ofFrank Lloyd Wright. Hemingway, in effect, became adupe of his culture rather than its moral-aestheticconscience. As a consequence, the import of hiswork has diminished. There is some evidence(70) from his stylistic evolution that Hemingwayhimself must have felt as much, for Hemingwaysfamous stylistic economy frequently seems toconceal another kind of writer, with much richerrhetorical resources to hand. So, Death in the(75) Afternoon (1932), Hemingways bullfightingopus and his first book after A Farewell to Arms(1929), reveals great uneasiness over his earlieraccomplishment. In it, he defends his literarymethod with a doctrine of ambiguity: “If a writer(80) of prose knows enough about what he is writingabout he may omit things that he knows andthe reader, if the writer is writing truly enough,will have a feeling of those things as strongly asthough the writer had stated them.”(85) Hemingway made much the same theoreticalpoint in another way in Death in the Afternoonapparently believing that a formal reduction ofaesthetic complexity was the only kind of designthat had value.(90) Perhaps the greatest irony of Death in theAfternoon is its unmistakably baroque prose,which Hemingway himself embarrassedlyadmitted was “flowery.” Reviewers, unable tochallenge Hemingways expertise in the art of(95) bullfighting, noted that its style was “awkward,tortuous, [and] belligerently clumsy.”Death in the Afternoon is an extraordinarilyself-indulgent, unruly, clownish, garrulous,and satiric book, with scrambled chronologies,(100) willful digressions, mock-scholarly apparatuses,fictional interludes, and scathing allusions. Itsinflated style can hardly penetrate the fagade, letalone deflate humanity.Q.Which pair of sentences provides the strongest evidence for the answer to the previous question?a)Lines 5–7 (“He was . . . just shot”) and lines 85–89 (“Hemingway . . . had value”)b)Lines 37–39 (“Later writers . . . his place”) and lines 55–56 (“Our violence . . . the 1920s”)c)Lines 24–26 (“The words . . . stone of life”) and lines 57–58 (“Yet . . . existence”)d)Lines 34–36 (“We had much . . . influence”) and lines 90–93 (“Perhaps the greatest . . . was ‘flowery’”)Correct answer is option 'C'. Can you explain this answer? defined & explained in the simplest way possible. Besides giving the explanation of Question based on the following passages.Passage 1 is adapted from an essay written by John Aldridge in 1951. ©1951 by John Aldridge. Passage 2 is adapted from Brom Weber, "Ernest Hemingways Genteel Bullfight," published in The American Novel and the Nineteen Twenties. ©1971 by Hodder Education.Passage 1By the time we were old enough to readHemingway, he had become legendary. LikeLord Byron a century earlier, he had learnedto play himself, his own best hero, with superb(5) conviction. He was Hemingway of the ruggedoutdoor grin and the hairy chest posing beside alion he had just shot. He was Tarzan Hemingway,crouching in the African bush with elephant gunat ready. He was War Correspondent Hemingway(10) writing a play in the Hotel Florida in Madridwhile thirty fascist shells crashed throughthe roof. Later, he was Task Force Hemingwayswathed in ammunition belts and defendinghis post singlehandedly against fierce German(15) attacks.But even without the legend, the chestbeating, wisecracking pose that was later toseem so incredibly absurd, his impact upon uswas tremendous. The feeling he gave us was one(20) of immense expansiveness, freedom and, at thesame time, absolute stability and control. Wecould follow him, imitate his cold detachment,through all the doubts and fears of adolescenceand come out pure and untouched. The words(25) he put down seemed to us to have been carvedfrom the living stone of life. They conveyedexactly the taste, smell and feel of experience asit was, as it might possibly be. And so we beganunconsciously to translate our own sensations(30) into their terms and to impose on everythingwe did and felt the particular emotions theyaroused in us.The Hemingway time was a good time tobe young. We had much then that the war later(35) forced out of us, something far greater thanHemingways strong formative influence.Later writers who lost or got rid of Hemingwayhave been able to find nothing to put in hisplace. They have rejected his time as untrue(40) for them only to fail at finding themselves in theirown time. Others, in their embarrassment at thehold he once had over them, have not profitedby the lessons he had to teach, and still otherswere never touched by him at all. These last are(45) perhaps the real unfortunates, for they have beendenied access to a powerful tradition.Passage 2One wonders why Hemingways greatestworks now seem unable to evoke the same senseof a tottering world that in the 1920s established(50) Ernest Hemingways reputation. These novelsshould be speaking to us. Our social structureis as shaken, our philosophical despair as great,our everyday experience as unsatisfying. We havehad more war than Hemingway ever dreamed(55) of. Our violence—physical, emotional, andintellectual—is not inferior to that of the 1920s.Yet Hemingways great novels no longer seem topenetrate deeply the surface of existence.One begins to doubt that they ever did so significantly(60) in the 1920s.Hemingways novels indulged the dominantgenteel tradition in American culture whileseeming to repudiate it. They yielded to thefunctionalist, technological aesthetic of the(65) culture instead of resisting in the manner ofFrank Lloyd Wright. Hemingway, in effect, became adupe of his culture rather than its moral-aestheticconscience. As a consequence, the import of hiswork has diminished. There is some evidence(70) from his stylistic evolution that Hemingwayhimself must have felt as much, for Hemingwaysfamous stylistic economy frequently seems toconceal another kind of writer, with much richerrhetorical resources to hand. So, Death in the(75) Afternoon (1932), Hemingways bullfightingopus and his first book after A Farewell to Arms(1929), reveals great uneasiness over his earlieraccomplishment. In it, he defends his literarymethod with a doctrine of ambiguity: “If a writer(80) of prose knows enough about what he is writingabout he may omit things that he knows andthe reader, if the writer is writing truly enough,will have a feeling of those things as strongly asthough the writer had stated them.”(85) Hemingway made much the same theoreticalpoint in another way in Death in the Afternoonapparently believing that a formal reduction ofaesthetic complexity was the only kind of designthat had value.(90) Perhaps the greatest irony of Death in theAfternoon is its unmistakably baroque prose,which Hemingway himself embarrassedlyadmitted was “flowery.” Reviewers, unable tochallenge Hemingways expertise in the art of(95) bullfighting, noted that its style was “awkward,tortuous, [and] belligerently clumsy.”Death in the Afternoon is an extraordinarilyself-indulgent, unruly, clownish, garrulous,and satiric book, with scrambled chronologies,(100) willful digressions, mock-scholarly apparatuses,fictional interludes, and scathing allusions. Itsinflated style can hardly penetrate the fagade, letalone deflate humanity.Q.Which pair of sentences provides the strongest evidence for the answer to the previous question?a)Lines 5–7 (“He was . . . just shot”) and lines 85–89 (“Hemingway . . . had value”)b)Lines 37–39 (“Later writers . . . his place”) and lines 55–56 (“Our violence . . . the 1920s”)c)Lines 24–26 (“The words . . . stone of life”) and lines 57–58 (“Yet . . . existence”)d)Lines 34–36 (“We had much . . . influence”) and lines 90–93 (“Perhaps the greatest . . . was ‘flowery’”)Correct answer is option 'C'. Can you explain this answer?, a detailed solution for Question based on the following passages.Passage 1 is adapted from an essay written by John Aldridge in 1951. ©1951 by John Aldridge. Passage 2 is adapted from Brom Weber, "Ernest Hemingways Genteel Bullfight," published in The American Novel and the Nineteen Twenties. ©1971 by Hodder Education.Passage 1By the time we were old enough to readHemingway, he had become legendary. LikeLord Byron a century earlier, he had learnedto play himself, his own best hero, with superb(5) conviction. He was Hemingway of the ruggedoutdoor grin and the hairy chest posing beside alion he had just shot. He was Tarzan Hemingway,crouching in the African bush with elephant gunat ready. He was War Correspondent Hemingway(10) writing a play in the Hotel Florida in Madridwhile thirty fascist shells crashed throughthe roof. Later, he was Task Force Hemingwayswathed in ammunition belts and defendinghis post singlehandedly against fierce German(15) attacks.But even without the legend, the chestbeating, wisecracking pose that was later toseem so incredibly absurd, his impact upon uswas tremendous. The feeling he gave us was one(20) of immense expansiveness, freedom and, at thesame time, absolute stability and control. Wecould follow him, imitate his cold detachment,through all the doubts and fears of adolescenceand come out pure and untouched. The words(25) he put down seemed to us to have been carvedfrom the living stone of life. They conveyedexactly the taste, smell and feel of experience asit was, as it might possibly be. And so we beganunconsciously to translate our own sensations(30) into their terms and to impose on everythingwe did and felt the particular emotions theyaroused in us.The Hemingway time was a good time tobe young. We had much then that the war later(35) forced out of us, something far greater thanHemingways strong formative influence.Later writers who lost or got rid of Hemingwayhave been able to find nothing to put in hisplace. They have rejected his time as untrue(40) for them only to fail at finding themselves in theirown time. Others, in their embarrassment at thehold he once had over them, have not profitedby the lessons he had to teach, and still otherswere never touched by him at all. These last are(45) perhaps the real unfortunates, for they have beendenied access to a powerful tradition.Passage 2One wonders why Hemingways greatestworks now seem unable to evoke the same senseof a tottering world that in the 1920s established(50) Ernest Hemingways reputation. These novelsshould be speaking to us. Our social structureis as shaken, our philosophical despair as great,our everyday experience as unsatisfying. We havehad more war than Hemingway ever dreamed(55) of. Our violence—physical, emotional, andintellectual—is not inferior to that of the 1920s.Yet Hemingways great novels no longer seem topenetrate deeply the surface of existence.One begins to doubt that they ever did so significantly(60) in the 1920s.Hemingways novels indulged the dominantgenteel tradition in American culture whileseeming to repudiate it. They yielded to thefunctionalist, technological aesthetic of the(65) culture instead of resisting in the manner ofFrank Lloyd Wright. Hemingway, in effect, became adupe of his culture rather than its moral-aestheticconscience. As a consequence, the import of hiswork has diminished. There is some evidence(70) from his stylistic evolution that Hemingwayhimself must have felt as much, for Hemingwaysfamous stylistic economy frequently seems toconceal another kind of writer, with much richerrhetorical resources to hand. So, Death in the(75) Afternoon (1932), Hemingways bullfightingopus and his first book after A Farewell to Arms(1929), reveals great uneasiness over his earlieraccomplishment. In it, he defends his literarymethod with a doctrine of ambiguity: “If a writer(80) of prose knows enough about what he is writingabout he may omit things that he knows andthe reader, if the writer is writing truly enough,will have a feeling of those things as strongly asthough the writer had stated them.”(85) Hemingway made much the same theoreticalpoint in another way in Death in the Afternoonapparently believing that a formal reduction ofaesthetic complexity was the only kind of designthat had value.(90) Perhaps the greatest irony of Death in theAfternoon is its unmistakably baroque prose,which Hemingway himself embarrassedlyadmitted was “flowery.” Reviewers, unable tochallenge Hemingways expertise in the art of(95) bullfighting, noted that its style was “awkward,tortuous, [and] belligerently clumsy.”Death in the Afternoon is an extraordinarilyself-indulgent, unruly, clownish, garrulous,and satiric book, with scrambled chronologies,(100) willful digressions, mock-scholarly apparatuses,fictional interludes, and scathing allusions. Itsinflated style can hardly penetrate the fagade, letalone deflate humanity.Q.Which pair of sentences provides the strongest evidence for the answer to the previous question?a)Lines 5–7 (“He was . . . just shot”) and lines 85–89 (“Hemingway . . . had value”)b)Lines 37–39 (“Later writers . . . his place”) and lines 55–56 (“Our violence . . . the 1920s”)c)Lines 24–26 (“The words . . . stone of life”) and lines 57–58 (“Yet . . . existence”)d)Lines 34–36 (“We had much . . . influence”) and lines 90–93 (“Perhaps the greatest . . . was ‘flowery’”)Correct answer is option 'C'. Can you explain this answer? has been provided alongside types of Question based on the following passages.Passage 1 is adapted from an essay written by John Aldridge in 1951. ©1951 by John Aldridge. Passage 2 is adapted from Brom Weber, "Ernest Hemingways Genteel Bullfight," published in The American Novel and the Nineteen Twenties. ©1971 by Hodder Education.Passage 1By the time we were old enough to readHemingway, he had become legendary. LikeLord Byron a century earlier, he had learnedto play himself, his own best hero, with superb(5) conviction. He was Hemingway of the ruggedoutdoor grin and the hairy chest posing beside alion he had just shot. He was Tarzan Hemingway,crouching in the African bush with elephant gunat ready. He was War Correspondent Hemingway(10) writing a play in the Hotel Florida in Madridwhile thirty fascist shells crashed throughthe roof. Later, he was Task Force Hemingwayswathed in ammunition belts and defendinghis post singlehandedly against fierce German(15) attacks.But even without the legend, the chestbeating, wisecracking pose that was later toseem so incredibly absurd, his impact upon uswas tremendous. The feeling he gave us was one(20) of immense expansiveness, freedom and, at thesame time, absolute stability and control. Wecould follow him, imitate his cold detachment,through all the doubts and fears of adolescenceand come out pure and untouched. The words(25) he put down seemed to us to have been carvedfrom the living stone of life. They conveyedexactly the taste, smell and feel of experience asit was, as it might possibly be. And so we beganunconsciously to translate our own sensations(30) into their terms and to impose on everythingwe did and felt the particular emotions theyaroused in us.The Hemingway time was a good time tobe young. We had much then that the war later(35) forced out of us, something far greater thanHemingways strong formative influence.Later writers who lost or got rid of Hemingwayhave been able to find nothing to put in hisplace. They have rejected his time as untrue(40) for them only to fail at finding themselves in theirown time. Others, in their embarrassment at thehold he once had over them, have not profitedby the lessons he had to teach, and still otherswere never touched by him at all. These last are(45) perhaps the real unfortunates, for they have beendenied access to a powerful tradition.Passage 2One wonders why Hemingways greatestworks now seem unable to evoke the same senseof a tottering world that in the 1920s established(50) Ernest Hemingways reputation. These novelsshould be speaking to us. Our social structureis as shaken, our philosophical despair as great,our everyday experience as unsatisfying. We havehad more war than Hemingway ever dreamed(55) of. Our violence—physical, emotional, andintellectual—is not inferior to that of the 1920s.Yet Hemingways great novels no longer seem topenetrate deeply the surface of existence.One begins to doubt that they ever did so significantly(60) in the 1920s.Hemingways novels indulged the dominantgenteel tradition in American culture whileseeming to repudiate it. They yielded to thefunctionalist, technological aesthetic of the(65) culture instead of resisting in the manner ofFrank Lloyd Wright. Hemingway, in effect, became adupe of his culture rather than its moral-aestheticconscience. As a consequence, the import of hiswork has diminished. There is some evidence(70) from his stylistic evolution that Hemingwayhimself must have felt as much, for Hemingwaysfamous stylistic economy frequently seems toconceal another kind of writer, with much richerrhetorical resources to hand. So, Death in the(75) Afternoon (1932), Hemingways bullfightingopus and his first book after A Farewell to Arms(1929), reveals great uneasiness over his earlieraccomplishment. In it, he defends his literarymethod with a doctrine of ambiguity: “If a writer(80) of prose knows enough about what he is writingabout he may omit things that he knows andthe reader, if the writer is writing truly enough,will have a feeling of those things as strongly asthough the writer had stated them.”(85) Hemingway made much the same theoreticalpoint in another way in Death in the Afternoonapparently believing that a formal reduction ofaesthetic complexity was the only kind of designthat had value.(90) Perhaps the greatest irony of Death in theAfternoon is its unmistakably baroque prose,which Hemingway himself embarrassedlyadmitted was “flowery.” Reviewers, unable tochallenge Hemingways expertise in the art of(95) bullfighting, noted that its style was “awkward,tortuous, [and] belligerently clumsy.”Death in the Afternoon is an extraordinarilyself-indulgent, unruly, clownish, garrulous,and satiric book, with scrambled chronologies,(100) willful digressions, mock-scholarly apparatuses,fictional interludes, and scathing allusions. Itsinflated style can hardly penetrate the fagade, letalone deflate humanity.Q.Which pair of sentences provides the strongest evidence for the answer to the previous question?a)Lines 5–7 (“He was . . . just shot”) and lines 85–89 (“Hemingway . . . had value”)b)Lines 37–39 (“Later writers . . . his place”) and lines 55–56 (“Our violence . . . the 1920s”)c)Lines 24–26 (“The words . . . stone of life”) and lines 57–58 (“Yet . . . existence”)d)Lines 34–36 (“We had much . . . influence”) and lines 90–93 (“Perhaps the greatest . . . was ‘flowery’”)Correct answer is option 'C'. Can you explain this answer? theory, EduRev gives you an ample number of questions to practice Question based on the following passages.Passage 1 is adapted from an essay written by John Aldridge in 1951. ©1951 by John Aldridge. Passage 2 is adapted from Brom Weber, "Ernest Hemingways Genteel Bullfight," published in The American Novel and the Nineteen Twenties. ©1971 by Hodder Education.Passage 1By the time we were old enough to readHemingway, he had become legendary. LikeLord Byron a century earlier, he had learnedto play himself, his own best hero, with superb(5) conviction. He was Hemingway of the ruggedoutdoor grin and the hairy chest posing beside alion he had just shot. He was Tarzan Hemingway,crouching in the African bush with elephant gunat ready. He was War Correspondent Hemingway(10) writing a play in the Hotel Florida in Madridwhile thirty fascist shells crashed throughthe roof. Later, he was Task Force Hemingwayswathed in ammunition belts and defendinghis post singlehandedly against fierce German(15) attacks.But even without the legend, the chestbeating, wisecracking pose that was later toseem so incredibly absurd, his impact upon uswas tremendous. The feeling he gave us was one(20) of immense expansiveness, freedom and, at thesame time, absolute stability and control. Wecould follow him, imitate his cold detachment,through all the doubts and fears of adolescenceand come out pure and untouched. The words(25) he put down seemed to us to have been carvedfrom the living stone of life. They conveyedexactly the taste, smell and feel of experience asit was, as it might possibly be. And so we beganunconsciously to translate our own sensations(30) into their terms and to impose on everythingwe did and felt the particular emotions theyaroused in us.The Hemingway time was a good time tobe young. We had much then that the war later(35) forced out of us, something far greater thanHemingways strong formative influence.Later writers who lost or got rid of Hemingwayhave been able to find nothing to put in hisplace. They have rejected his time as untrue(40) for them only to fail at finding themselves in theirown time. Others, in their embarrassment at thehold he once had over them, have not profitedby the lessons he had to teach, and still otherswere never touched by him at all. These last are(45) perhaps the real unfortunates, for they have beendenied access to a powerful tradition.Passage 2One wonders why Hemingways greatestworks now seem unable to evoke the same senseof a tottering world that in the 1920s established(50) Ernest Hemingways reputation. These novelsshould be speaking to us. Our social structureis as shaken, our philosophical despair as great,our everyday experience as unsatisfying. We havehad more war than Hemingway ever dreamed(55) of. Our violence—physical, emotional, andintellectual—is not inferior to that of the 1920s.Yet Hemingways great novels no longer seem topenetrate deeply the surface of existence.One begins to doubt that they ever did so significantly(60) in the 1920s.Hemingways novels indulged the dominantgenteel tradition in American culture whileseeming to repudiate it. They yielded to thefunctionalist, technological aesthetic of the(65) culture instead of resisting in the manner ofFrank Lloyd Wright. Hemingway, in effect, became adupe of his culture rather than its moral-aestheticconscience. As a consequence, the import of hiswork has diminished. There is some evidence(70) from his stylistic evolution that Hemingwayhimself must have felt as much, for Hemingwaysfamous stylistic economy frequently seems toconceal another kind of writer, with much richerrhetorical resources to hand. So, Death in the(75) Afternoon (1932), Hemingways bullfightingopus and his first book after A Farewell to Arms(1929), reveals great uneasiness over his earlieraccomplishment. In it, he defends his literarymethod with a doctrine of ambiguity: “If a writer(80) of prose knows enough about what he is writingabout he may omit things that he knows andthe reader, if the writer is writing truly enough,will have a feeling of those things as strongly asthough the writer had stated them.”(85) Hemingway made much the same theoreticalpoint in another way in Death in the Afternoonapparently believing that a formal reduction ofaesthetic complexity was the only kind of designthat had value.(90) Perhaps the greatest irony of Death in theAfternoon is its unmistakably baroque prose,which Hemingway himself embarrassedlyadmitted was “flowery.” Reviewers, unable tochallenge Hemingways expertise in the art of(95) bullfighting, noted that its style was “awkward,tortuous, [and] belligerently clumsy.”Death in the Afternoon is an extraordinarilyself-indulgent, unruly, clownish, garrulous,and satiric book, with scrambled chronologies,(100) willful digressions, mock-scholarly apparatuses,fictional interludes, and scathing allusions. Itsinflated style can hardly penetrate the fagade, letalone deflate humanity.Q.Which pair of sentences provides the strongest evidence for the answer to the previous question?a)Lines 5–7 (“He was . . . just shot”) and lines 85–89 (“Hemingway . . . had value”)b)Lines 37–39 (“Later writers . . . his place”) and lines 55–56 (“Our violence . . . the 1920s”)c)Lines 24–26 (“The words . . . stone of life”) and lines 57–58 (“Yet . . . existence”)d)Lines 34–36 (“We had much . . . influence”) and lines 90–93 (“Perhaps the greatest . . . was ‘flowery’”)Correct answer is option 'C'. Can you explain this answer? tests, examples and also practice SAT tests.