cambridge international examinations cambridge ordinary...

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Cambridge International ExaminationsCambridge Ordinary Level

*7049386669*

LITERATURE IN ENGLISH 2010/13

Paper 1 Poetry and Prose October/November 2015

1 hour 30 minutes

No Additional Materials are required.

READ THESE INSTRUCTIONS FIRST

An answer booklet is provided inside this question paper. You should follow the instructions on the front cover of the answer booklet. If you need additional answer paper ask the invigilator for a continuation booklet.

Answer two questions. Your answers must be on two different set texts.

All questions in this paper carry equal marks.

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CONTENTS

Section A: Poetry

text question numbers page[s]

Thomas Hardy:from Selected Poems 1, 2 pages 4–6from Jo Phillips ed: Poems Deep & Dangerous 3, 4 pages 8–9Songs of Ourselves: from Part 4 5, 6 pages 10–11

Section B: Prose


Jane Austen: Northanger Abbey 7, 8 pages 12–13Tsitsi Dangarembga: Nervous Conditions 9, 10 pages 14–15Anita Desai: Fasting, Feasting 11, 12 pages 16–17Helen Dunmore: The Siege 13, 14 page 18George Eliot: Silas Marner 15, 16 pages 20–21Susan Hill: I’m the King of the Castle 17, 18 pages 22–23Robert Louis Stevenson: The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde 19, 20 pages 24–25from Stories of Ourselves 21, 22 pages 26–27

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SECTION A: POETRY

THOMAS HARDY: fromSelectedPoems

Remember to support your ideas with details from the writing.

Either 1 Explore the ways in which Hardy vividly conveys the pain of separation in either On the Departure Platform or The Going.

On the Departure Platform

We kissed at the barrier; and passing throughShe left me, and moment by moment gotSmaller and smaller, until to my view She was but a spot;

A wee white spot of muslin fluffThat down the diminishing platform boreThrough hustling crowds of gentle and rough To the carriage door.

Under the lamplight’s fitful glowers,Behind dark groups from far and near,Whose interests were apart from ours, She would disappear,

Then show again, till I ceased to seeThat flexible form, that nebulous white;And she who was more than my life to me Had vanished quite ...

We have penned new plans since that fair fond day,And in season she will appear again –Perhaps in the same soft white array – But never as then!

– ‘And why, young man, must eternally flyA joy you’ll repeat, if you love her well?’– O friend, nought happens twice thus; why, I cannot tell!

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The Going

Why did you give no hint that nightThat quickly after the morrow’s dawn,And calmly, as if indifferent quite,You would close your term here, up and be gone Where I could not follow With wing of swallowTo gain one glimpse of you ever anon!

Never to bid good-bye, Or lip me the softest call,Or utter a wish for a word, while ISaw morning harden upon the wall, Unmoved, unknowing That your great goingHad place that moment, and altered all.

Why do you make me leave the houseAnd think for a breath it is you I seeAt the end of the alley of bending boughsWhere so often at dusk you used to be; Till in darkening dankness The yawning blanknessOf the perspective sickens me!

You were she who abode By those red-veined rocks far West,You were the swan-necked one who rodeAlong the beetling Beeny Crest, And, reining nigh me, Would muse and eye me,While Life unrolled us its very best.

Why, then, latterly did we not speak,Did we not think of those days long dead,And ere your vanishing strive to seekThat time’s renewal? We might have said, ‘In this bright spring weather We’ll visit togetherThose places that once we visited.’

Well, well! All’s past amend, Unchangeable. It must go.I seem but a dead man held on endTo sink down soon ... O you could not know That such swift fleeing No soul foreseeing –Not even I – would undo me so!

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Or 2 Read this poem, and then answer the question that follows it:

The Voice

Woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me,Saying that now you are not as you wereWhen you had changed from the one who was all to me,But as at first, when our day was fair.

Can it be you that I hear? Let me view you, then,Standing as when I drew near to the townWhere you would wait for me: yes, as I knew you then,Even to the original air-blue gown!

Or is it only the breeze, in its listlessnessTravelling across the wet mead to me here,You being ever dissolved to wan wistlessness,Heard no more again far or near?

Thus I; faltering forward,Leaves around me falling,

Wind oozing thin through the thorn from norward,And the woman calling.

How does Hardy movingly create sympathy for the speaker in The Voice ?

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Turn to page 8 for Question 3.

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from JO PHILLIPS ed: PoemsDeep&Dangerous


Either 3 Read this poem, and then answer the question that follows it:

To Marguerite

Yes! in the sea of life enisled,With echoing straits between us thrown,Dotting the shoreless watery wild,We mortal millions live alone.The islands feel the enclasping flow,And then their endless bounds they know.

But when the moon their hollows lights,And they are swept by balms of spring,And in their glens, on starry nights,The nightingales divinely sing;And lovely notes, from shore to shore,Across the sounds and channels pour –

Oh! then a longing like despairIs to their farthest caverns sent;For surely once, they feel, we wereParts of a single continent!Now round us spreads the watery plain –Oh might our marges meet again!

Who order’d, that their longing’s fireShould be, as soon as kindled, cool’d?Who renders vain their deep desire? –A God, a God their severance ruled;And bade betwixt their shores to beThe unplumb’d, salt, estranging sea.

(Matthew Arnold )

In what ways does Arnold use imagery to striking effect in To Marguerite ?

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Or 4 How does Mitchell’s writing make her portrayal of people so vivid and entertaining for you in People Etcetera?

People Etcetera

People are lovely to touch –A nice warm sloppy tilting bellyHappy in its hollow of pelvisLike a bowl of porridge.

People are fun to notice –Their eyes taking off like birdsAway from their wordsTo settle on breasts and anklesIrreverent as pigeons.

People are good to smell –Leathery, heathery, culinary or Chanel,Lamb’s-wool, sea-salt, linen dried in the wind,Skin fresh out of a shower.

People are delicious to taste –Crisp and soft and tepid as new-made bread,Tangy as blackberries, luscious as avocado,Native as milk,Acrid as truth.

People are irresistible to draw –Hand following hand,Eye outstaring eye,Every curve an experience of self,Felt weight of flesh, tension of muscleAnd all the geology of an elderly face.

And people are easy to write about?Don’t say it.What are these shadowsVanishingRound theCorner?

(Elma Mitchell )

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SONGSOFOURSELVES:from Part 4



Pike

Content removed due to copyright restrictions.

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(Ted Hughes )

Explore the ways in which Hughes creates feelings of fear in Pike.

Or 6 How does Rossetti strikingly use words and images in A Birthday ?

A Birthday

My heart is like a singing birdWhose nest is in a watered shoot;

My heart is like an apple-treeWhose boughs are bent with thickset fruit;

My heart is like a rainbow shellThat paddles in a halcyon sea;

My heart is gladder than all theseBecause my love is come to me.

Raise me a dais of silk and down;Hang it with vair and purple dyes;

Carve it in doves and pomegranates,And peacocks with a hundred eyes;

Work it in gold and silver grapes,In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;

Because the birthday of my lifeIs come, my love is come to me.

(Christina Rossetti )

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SECTION B: PROSE

JANE AUSTEN: NorthangerAbbey


Either 7 Read this extract, and then answer the question that follows it:

Catherine blushed for her friend, and said, ‘Isabella is wrong. But I am sure she cannot mean to torment, for she is very much attached to my brother. She has been in love with him ever since they first met, and while my father’s consent was uncertain, she fretted herself almost into a fever. You know she must be attached to him.’

‘I understand: she is in love with James, and flirts with Frederick.’‘Oh! no, not flirts. A woman in love with one man cannot flirt with another.’‘It is probable that she will neither love so well, nor flirt so well, as she

might do either singly. The gentlemen must each give up a little.’After a short pause, Catherine resumed with ‘Then you do not believe

Isabella so very much attached to my brother?’‘I can have no opinion on that subject.’‘But what can your brother mean? If he knows her engagement, what

can he mean by his behaviour?’‘You are a very close questioner.’‘Am I? – I only ask what I want to be told.’‘But do you only ask what I can be expected to tell?’‘Yes, I think so; for you must know your brother’s heart.’‘My brother’s heart, as you term it, on the present occasion, I assure you

I can only guess at.’‘Well?’‘Well! – Nay, if it is to be guess-work, let us all guess for ourselves. To

be guided by second-hand conjecture is pitiful. The premises are before you. My brother is a lively, and perhaps sometimes a thoughtless young man; he has had about a week’s acquaintance with your friend, and he has known her engagement almost as long as he has known her.’

‘Well,’ said Catherine, after some moments’ consideration, ‘you may be able to guess at your brother’s intentions from all this; but I am sure I cannot. But is not your father uncomfortable about it? – Does not he want Captain Tilney to go away? – Sure, if your father were to speak to him, he would go.’

‘My dear Miss Morland,’ said Henry, ‘in this amiable solicitude for your brother’s comfort, may you not be a little mistaken? Are you not carried a little too far? Would he thank you, either on his own account or Miss Thorpe’s, for supposing that her affection, or at least her good-behaviour, is only to be secured by her seeing nothing of Captain Tilney? Is he safe only in solitude? – or, is her heart constant to him only when unsolicited by anyone else? – He cannot think this – and you may be sure that he would not have you think it. I will not say, “Do not be uneasy,” because I know that you are so, at this moment; but be as little uneasy as you can. You have no doubt of the mutual attachment of your brother and your friend; depend upon it therefore, that real jealousy never can exist between them; depend upon it that no disagreement between them can be of any duration. Their hearts are open to each other, as neither heart can be to you; they know exactly what is required and what can be borne; and you

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may be certain, that one will never tease the other beyond what is known to be pleasant.’

Perceiving her still to look doubtful and grave, he added, ‘Though Frederick does not leave Bath with us, he will probably remain but a very short time, perhaps only a few days behind us. His leave of absence will soon expire, and he must return to his regiment. – And what will then be their acquaintance? – The mess-room will drink Isabella Thorpe for a fortnight, and she will laugh with your brother over poor Tilney’s passion for a month.’

Catherine would contend no longer against comfort. She had resisted its approaches during the whole length of a speech, but it now carried her captive. Henry Tilney must know best. She blamed herself for the extent of her fears, and resolved never to think so seriously on the subject again.

[from Chapter 19]

How does Austen make this conversation between Catherine and Henry Tilney at this moment in the novel so fascinating?

Or 8 Explore how Austen vividly portrays a character behaving badly at one moment in the novel.

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TSITSI DANGAREMBGA: NervousConditions



Maiguru reached the house just as Takesure was explaining that Lucia had refused to leave her sister.

‘Yes,’ he was saying, ‘it’s Lucia’s fault. Ehe! That’s what she did, that Lucia of yours. She refused, absolutely refused, to leave. She knew she had taken this pregnancy of hers, but she just refused to leave.’

‘May I pass?’ asked Maiguru at the door, curtseying and bringing her hands together in a respectful, soundless clap.

‘Ma’Chido,’ reprimanded Babamukuru sternly, ‘we are listening to a very important case here. Sit down and listen with us.’

‘Could it be that important?’ demurred Maiguru, passing through the room with a deferential stoop of her back. ‘We did not know anything about it.’

‘Ma’Chido,’ Babamukuru insisted, his voice breaking ever so slightly, ‘I have invited you to sit down and listen to this case.’

‘Very well, Baba,’ acquiesced Maiguru, subsiding to the floor and folding her legs up under her.

‘I am sure it is not necessary,’ adjudged Tete, the female patriarch. ‘Maiguru works very hard all day. Maybe it is best for her to sleep.’

‘If she is tired, why doesn’t she say so?’ Babamukuru enquired irritably of Tete, and to Maiguru he graciously gave permission to leave. Maiguru accepted the permission and passed on to the bedroom. The men looked after her.

‘Shame,’ sympathised Babamunini Thomas. ‘She is so tired, too tired even to sit and listen. But it is true. Maiguru works hard. Ya, she really works hard to keep things comfortable here.’ And Babamukuru was pleased enough to let the matter pass.

The rest of us stood whispering outside, listening to these goings on and peering in at the window when the talking was intense and we thought no one would notice.

‘Finish what you were telling us, Takesure,’ ordered Babamukuru.‘Yes,’ continued Takesure, darting pleading glances at my father, who

remained patriarchally impervious and stern. ‘Yes,’ Takesure quivered, ‘this is what I was saying. She just refused to go with me. Ehe! I told her, Mukoma said we must go, and she laughed! She just laughed and said she could go with Mukoma if Mukoma asked because he is her mwaramu, but she would not go with me. Ehe! That is what she said, Mukoma, I swear by my grandmother who died in 1959! That is what she said.’

‘I see,’ said Babamukuru magnanimously, while Lucia in the shadowy moonlight choked on chuckles that would not be suppressed. ‘What you say is not surprising,’ went on Babamukuru. ‘It is understandable, because it is well known that she is an immodest woman. But why did you not report the matter?’

‘I was afraid, Mukoma, truly afraid,’ Takesure quavered. ‘You know what is said of her, that she walks in the night?’ This allegation was Takesure’s undoing. Babamukuru cleared his throat and fixed his cousin with an uncompromising eye. Takesure had lost his advantage but he blustered on. ‘She threatened terrible things. And we know what she is like. She would do them. Ehe! She would do them. She’s probably the one

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bewitching Mukoma Jeremiah’s children, so that he will marry her. She wants Jeremiah, not me!’

[from Chapter 7]

How does Dangarembga make this such an entertaining and revealing moment in the novel?

Or 10 Tambu refers to Chido’s ‘usual lovable self’. How far does Dangarembga’s writing convince you that Chido is lovable?

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ANITA DESAI: Fasting,Feasting



Then why, at that moment, when triumph should have reached its apogee, did everything change? And all good fortune veer around and plunge shockingly downwards?

In a way, it was Anamika’s scholarship that had summoned him up, brought him to her parents’ attention out of the swarm of other suitors, because he had qualifications equal to hers; he too had degrees, had won medals and certificates, and it seemed clear he would be a match for her.

Uma, Aruna and all the other girl cousins crowded around to see the match when he came, a bridegroom, to the wedding, and they fell back when they saw him, in dismay. He was so much older than Anamika, so grim-faced and conscious of his own superiority to everyone else present: those very degrees and medals had made him insufferably proud and kept everyone at a distance. The children saw that straight away: there would be no bridegroom jokes played at this wedding, no little gifts and bribes from him to them. In fact, he barely noticed them; he barely seemed to notice Anamika. The children saw that too – that she was marrying the one person who was totally impervious to Anamika’s beauty and grace and distinction. He was too occupied with maintaining his superiority. He raised his chin and his nose – which was as long and sharp as a needle – and seemed to look over the top of her head as they exchanged heavy garlands of rose and jasmine, then sat before the ceremonial fire. The children twisted and squirmed to see what it was that he was staring at: was there a mirror hanging a little above the bride’s head in which he could see himself?

Yes, in a way there was: it was the face of his mother, as sharp-nosed and grim-featured as he, gazing steadily back at him with an expression of fortitude in the face of calamity. They were to find out that this was how it was – it was the relationship central to his life, leaving room for no other. Anamika was simply an interloper, someone brought in because it was the custom and because she would, by marrying him, enhance his superiority to other men. So they had to tolerate her.

Only they did not tolerate her. No one said so openly, but Uma and Aruna heard gossip, over the next year or two, whispers and low voices that dropped even lower when they were within earshot. When they did pick up some hints, some information, it was deeply troubling: Anamika had been beaten, Anamika was beaten regularly by her mother-in-law while her husband stood by and approved – or, at least, did not object. Anamika spent her entire time in the kitchen, cooking for his family which was large so that meals were eaten in shifts – first the men, then the children, finally the women. She herself ate the remains in the pots before scouring them (or did Uma and Aruna imagine this last detail?). If the pots were not properly scoured, so they heard, her mother-in-law threw them on the ground and made her do them all over again. When Anamika was not scrubbing or cooking, she was in her mother-in-law’s room, either massaging that lady’s feet or folding and tidying her clothes. She never went out of the house except to the temple with other women. Anamika had never once been out alone with her husband. Aruna wondered what

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she did with all the fine clothes and jewellery she had been given at her wedding.

Then the news came that Anamika had had to go to the hospital. She had had a miscarriage at home, it was said, after a beating. It was said she could not bear more children. Now Anamika was flawed, she was damaged goods. She was no longer perfect. Would she be sent back to her family? Everyone waited to hear.

[from Chapter 6]

How does Desai make this moment in the novel so disturbing?

Or 12 How does Desai vividly convey how difficult it is for Arun to feel at home in the USA?

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HELEN DUNMORE: TheSiege



General Winter stood in his greatcoat of snow, and greeted General Hunger, as all great generals greet one another, once enough of their people have died and they can open their talks.

General Hunger, on the other hand, was not what you would expect. His cheeks were rosy, his hair sprang from his head, and his eyes were moist and bright. He was in his element. The two generals sat down on their chairs, planted their tall polished boots in front of them and leaned towards one another. They began to boast of what they could do to their enemies.

‘This is what I can do,’ said General Hunger. ‘I make their skin flake and crack at the corners of their mouths. I make sores break out on their lips. They screw up their eyes and try to focus, but they never see me. They don’t realize that it’s I who have changed their eyesight.

‘I whittle most of them down to skeletons, but with some I play a trick and fill their bodies with liquid that keeps them pinned to their beds. What I like best is a big, strong, well-muscled lad of eighteen, who burns up food like a stove. You should come back and see him after I’ve been keeping him company for a few weeks. He melts faster than a candle, in my hands. His muscles waste away. All those big strong bones stand out. I can turn him into an old man, I can make his eyes weak and watering, I can loosen his teeth in his gums until a crust of bread will pull them out. No one eats himself up quicker than a fit young man.

‘I turn old men into children whimpering for food, and I turn five-year-olds into old men. It’s all the same to me if they’re young or old, ugly or beautiful, and I make them all the same. I’ve seen a lovely young woman of twenty-five shrink back from the sight of herself in a mirror after she’s been living with me for a month or two.

‘If I can’t finish them off on my own, I groom them for my friends. A little cold that wouldn’t keep them in bed for half a day soon proves fatal when it visits them after I’ve been staying.

‘I strip them of their thoughts. I take away their feelings. I get into their blood. I am closer to them than they are to themselves. They can think of no one else.

‘My dear cousin, you have got to admit defeat.’

[from Chapter 5]

How does Dunmore’s writing portray hunger so powerfully at this moment in the novel?

Or 14 To what extent do you think Dunmore portrays the women in the novel as more admirable than the men?

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GEORGE ELIOT: SilasMarner



Baby was christened, the rector deciding that a double baptism was the lesser risk to incur; and on this occasion Silas, making himself as clean and tidy as he could, appeared for the first time within the church, and shared in the observances held sacred by his neighbours. He was quite unable, by means of anything he heard or saw, to identify the Raveloe religion with his old faith: if he could at any time in his previous life have done so, it must have been by the aid of a strong feeling ready to vibrate with sympathy, rather than by a comparison of phrases and ideas; and now for long years that feeling had been dormant. He had no distinct idea about the baptism and the church-going, except that Dolly had said it was for the good of the child; and in this way, as the weeks grew to months, the child created fresh and fresh links between his life and the lives from which he had hitherto shrunk continually into narrower isolation. Unlike the gold which needed nothing, and must be worshipped in close-locked solitude – which was hidden away from the daylight, was deaf to the song of birds, and started to no human tones – Eppie was a creature of endless claims and ever-growing desires, seeking and loving sunshine, and living sounds, and living movements; making trial of everything, with trust in new joy, and stirring the human kindness in all eyes that looked on her. The gold had kept his thoughts in an ever-repeated circle, leading to nothing beyond itself; but Eppie was an object compacted of changes and hopes that forced his thoughts onward, and carried them far away from their old eager pacing towards the same blank limit – carried them away to the new things that would come with the coming years, when Eppie would have learned to understand how her father Silas cared for her; and made him look for images of that time in the ties and charities that bound together the families of his neighbours. The gold had asked that he should sit weaving longer and longer, deafened and blinded more and more to all things except the monotony of his loom and the repetition of his web; but Eppie called him away from his weaving, and made him think all its pauses a holiday, reawakening his senses with her fresh life, even to the old winter-flies that came crawling forth in the early spring sunshine, and warming him into joy because she had joy.

And when the sunshine grew strong and lasting, so that the buttercups were thick in the meadows, Silas might be seen in the sunny mid-day, or in the late afternoon when the shadows were lengthening under the hedgerows, strolling out with uncovered head to carry Eppie beyond the Stone-pits to where the flowers grew, till they reached some favourite bank where he could sit down, while Eppie toddled to pluck the flowers, and make remarks to the winged things that murmured happily above the bright petals, calling ‘Dad-dad’s’ attention continually by bringing him the flowers. Then she would turn her ear to some sudden bird-note, and Silas learned to please her by making signs of hushed stillness, that they might listen for the note to come again: so that when it came, she set up her small back and laughed with gurgling triumph. Sitting on the banks in this way, Silas began to look for the once familiar herbs again; and as the leaves, with their unchanged outline and markings, lay on his palm, there was a sense of crowding remembrances from which he turned away timidly, taking refuge in Eppie’s little world, that lay lightly on his enfeebled spirit.

[from Chapter 14]

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How does Eliot’s writing movingly convey the impact of Eppie on Silas’s life at this moment in the novel?

Or 16 In what ways does Eliot make the relationship between Godfrey and Nancy so compelling?

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SUSAN HILL: I’mtheKingoftheCastle



Kingshaw woke. The room was quite silent. He had dreamed it, then.He lay on his back, keeping his eyes tightly closed, and thinking about

why Hooper might have disappeared for the rest of that day. He had been waiting for him to come and say, ‘You’ve got to go into the copse, now, I shall come to the window and watch you, you’ve got to go right in, and if you don’t …’ But Hooper had not come near.

What Kingshaw thought was, Hooper is not very used to being a bully. He is trying it out, he is just learning. Because he was not like the usual bullies he had known at school. He could cope with them, they had simple, and transparent minds. In any case, they rarely bothered him, now. He had ways of dealing with them. But Hooper was unpredictable. Clever. Inventive.

There was a sound outside on the landing, a sort of shuffle. But Warings was that sort of house, it moved and creaked all the time, it was old and the doors and windows did not shut properly.

Kingshaw turned his head and then opened his eyes, to look at the clock. He never liked to open his eyes in this room, at night, he could not stop himself thinking about Hooper’s grandfather, lying dead.

What he saw first was not the clock. There was a thin beam of moonlight coming into the room, and a shape upon his bed, about half way down. He could not at all make out what it was. He listened. Somebody had been in his room, but there was no sound, now, from outside the door.

He thought, make me put the light on, I mustn’t be too scared to put the light on, I’ve got to see. But he dared not reach out his hand, he lay stiff, his eyes wide open. Nothing moved. He did not move.

But he had to see, had to know. Make me, make me put on the light …He reached out his left hand swiftly, and found the switch and pressed it

before he could stop himself. He looked.He knew at once that the crow was not real, that it was stuffed and dead.

Somehow, that only made it so much worse. Its claws were gripping the sheet. It was very big.

Kingshaw lay stiff, and did not scream, did not make any sound at all. He was dry and faint with fear of the thing, though his brain still worked, he knew who had brought it, he knew that Hooper was still waiting out in the corridor, must have seen the light go on. Hooper wanted him to be frightened, to scream and cry and shout for his mother. He would not do that. There was nothing, nothing at all, that he could do to help himself. He wanted to lift up his leg quickly, and topple the terrible bird on to the floor, out of sight, not to have it there, pressing down on his thigh. But if he moved at all, it might fall the wrong way – forwards, nearer to him. He would not be able to touch it with his hand.

He must put out the light. Hooper was still waiting, listening. He managed it, eventually, but he dared not draw his hand back into the bed. He lay with his eyes squeezed shut, and a burning pain in his bladder. He was afraid of wetting the bed. He wished to be dead, he wished Hooper dead. But there was nothing, nothing he could do. In the end, towards morning, he half-slept.

When he woke again, it was just after six o’clock. The crow looked even less real, now, but much larger. He lay and waited for the beak to open so

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that he would see the scarlet inside of its mouth, for it to rise up and swoop down at him, making for his eyes. He thought, it’s stupid, it’s stupid, it’s only a stupid, rotten bird. He took one deep breath, and then closed his eyes and rolled over, out of bed on to the floor. Then, ran. He sat for a long time on the lavatory. The house was quite silent.

He wondered what he could do with the thing, how he could possibly get rid of it. Now it was daylight, he would be even more afraid of touching it with his bare hands, but he wouldn’t tell anyone about its presence in his room. It would have to stay there, then, lie on the floor beside his bed, night after night, until Mrs Boland came to clean and took it away.

But when he got back, the crow had gone.

[from Chapter 3]

How effectively does Hill’s writing create a sense of terror at this moment in the novel?

Or 18 To what extent does Hill make the adults in the novel difficult to admire?

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ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON: TheStrangeCaseofDrJekyllandMrHyde



‘10th December, 18—‘Dear Lanyon,—You are one of my oldest friends; and although we may have differed at times on scientific questions, I cannot remember, at least on my side, any break in our affection. There was never a day when, if you had said to me, “Jekyll, my life, my honour, my reason, depend upon you,” I would not have sacrificed my fortune or my left hand to help you. Lanyon, my life, my honour, my reason, are all at your mercy; if you fail me to-night, I am lost. You might suppose, after this preface, that I am going to ask you for something dishonourable to grant. Judge for yourself.

‘I want you to postpone all other engagements for to-night—ay, even if you were summoned to the bedside of an emperor; to take a cab, unless your carriage should be actually at the door; and with this letter in your hand for consultation, to drive straight to my house. Poole, my butler, has his orders; you will find him waiting your arrival with a locksmith. The door of my cabinet is then to be forced; and you are to go in alone; to open the glazed press (letter E) on the left hand, breaking the lock if it be shut; and to draw out, with all its contents as they stand, the fourth drawer from the top or (which is the same thing) the third from the bottom. In my extreme distress of mind, I have a morbid fear of misdirecting you; but even if I am in error, you may know the right drawer by its contents: some powders, a phial and a paper book. This drawer I beg of you to carry back with you to Cavendish Square exactly as it stands.

‘That is the first part of the service: now for the second. You should be back, if you set out at once on the receipt of this, long before midnight; but I will leave you that amount of margin, not only in the fear of one of those obstacles that can neither be prevented nor foreseen, but because an hour when your servants are in bed is to be preferred for what will then remain to do. At midnight, then, I have to ask you to be alone in your consulting room, to admit with your own hand into the house a man who will present himself in my name, and to place in his hands the drawer that you will have brought with you from my cabinet. Then you will have played your part and earned my gratitude completely. Five minutes, afterwards, if you insist upon an explanation, you will have understood that these arrangements are of capital importance; and that by the neglect of one of them, fantastic as they must appear, you might have charged your conscience with my death or the shipwreck of my reason.

‘Confident as I am that you will not trifle with this appeal, my heart sinks and my hand trembles at the bare thought of such a possibility. Think of me at this hour, in a strange place, labouring under a blackness of distress that no fancy can exaggerate, and yet well aware that, if you will but punctually serve me, my troubles will roll away like a story that is told. Serve me, my dear Lanyon, and save

‘Your friend, ‘H. J.

‘P.S. I had already sealed this up when a fresh terror struck upon my soul. It is possible that the post office may fail me, and this letter not come into your hands until to-morrow morning. In that case, dear Lanyon, do my

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errand when it shall be most convenient for you in the course of the day; and once more expect my messenger at midnight. It may then already be too late; and if that passes without event, you will know that you have seen the last of Henry Jekyll.’

[from Chapter 9, ‘Dr Lanyon’s Narrative’]

How does Stevenson’s writing vividly convey Jekyll’s desperation to you at this moment in the novel?

Or 20 Explore the ways in which Stevenson makes the final night and death of Dr Jekyll / Mr Hyde so dramatic.

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from STORIESOFOURSELVES


Either 21 Read this extract from Sandpiper (by Ahdaf Soueif), and then answer the question that follows it:

I lean against the wall of my room and count: twelve years ago, I met him. Eight years ago, I married him. Six years ago, I gave birth to his child.

For eight summers we have been coming here; to the beach-house west of Alexandria. The first summer had not been a time of reflection; my occupation then had been to love my husband in this – to me – new and different place. To love him as he walked towards my parasol, shaking the water from his black hair, his feet sinking into the warm, hospitable sand. To love him as he carried his nephew on his shoulders into the sea, threw him in, caught him and hoisted him up again; a colossus bestriding the waves. To love him as he played backgammon with his father in the evening, the slam of counters and the clatter of dice resounding on the patio while, at the dining-room table, his sister showed me how to draw their ornate, circular script. To love this new him, who had been hinted at but never revealed when we lived in my northern land, and who after a long absence, had found his way back into the heart of his country, taking me along with him. We walked in the sunset along the water’s edge, kicking at the spray, my sun-hat fallen on my back, my hand, pale bronze in his burnt brown, my face no doubt mirroring his: aglow with health and love; a young couple in a glitzy commercial for life insurance or a two-week break in the sun.

My second summer here was the sixth summer of our love – and the last of our happiness. Carrying my child and loving her father, I sat on the beach, dug holes in the sand and let my thoughts wander. I thought about our life in my country, before we were married: four years in the cosy flat, precarious on top of a roof in a Georgian square, him meeting me at the bus-stop when I came back from work, Sundays when it did not rain and we sat in the park with our newspapers, late nights at the movies. I thought of those things and missed them – but with no great sense of loss. It was as though they were all there, to be called upon, to be lived again whenever we wanted.

I looked out to sea and, now I realise, I was trying to work out my co-ordinates. I thought a lot about the water and the sand as I sat there watching them meet and flirt and touch. I tried to understand that I was on the edge, the very edge of Africa; that the vastness ahead was nothing compared to what lay behind me. But – even though I’d been there and seen for myself its never-ending dusty green interior, its mountains, the big sky, my mind could not grasp a world that was not present to my senses – I could see the beach, the waves, the blue beyond, and cradling them all, my baby.

I sat with my hand on my belly and waited for the tiny eruptions, the small flutterings, that told me how she lay and what she was feeling. Gradually, we came to talk to each other. She would curl into a tight ball in one corner of my body until, lopsided and uncomfortable, I coaxed and prodded her back into a more centred, relaxed position. I slowly rubbed one corner of my belly until there, aimed straight at my hand, I felt a gentle punch. I tapped and she punched again. I was twenty-nine. For seventeen years my body had waited to conceive, and now my heart and mind had caught up

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with it. Nature had worked admirably; I had wanted the child through my love for her father and how I loved her father that summer. My body could not get enough of him. His baby was snug inside me and I wanted him there too.

From where I stand now, all I can see is dry, solid white. The white glare, the white wall, and the white path, narrowing in the distance.

I should have gone. No longer a serrating thought but familiar and dull. I should have gone. On that swirl of amazed and wounded anger when, knowing him as I did, I first sensed that he was pulling away from me, I should have gone. I should have turned, picked up my child and gone.

How does Soueif make this passage so moving?

Or 22 What makes the writer’s portrayal of a young person so memorable in either Her First Ball (by Katherine Mansfield) or The Son’s Veto (by Thomas Hardy)?

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Paper 2 Drama October/November 2015

1 hour 30 minutes




Answer two questions.Your questions may be on the same play, or on two different plays.


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ARTHUR MILLER: All My Sons

Remember to support your ideas with details from the text.

1 Read this extract, and then answer the question that follows it:

[MOTHER comesout.Shecarriesapotofstringbeans.]Mother: It’s her day off, what are you crabbing about?Chris [to MOTHER]: Isn’t Annie finished eating?Mother [looking around preoccupiedly at yard]: She’ll be right

out. [Moves.] That wind did some job on this place. [Ofthetree.] So much for that, thank God.

Keller [indicatingchairbesidehim]: Sit down, take it easy.Mother [pressingherhandtotopofherhead]: I’ve got such a

funny pain on the top of my head.Chris: Can I get you an aspirin? [MOTHER picksa fewpetalsoffground,stands there

smelling them in her hand, then sprinkles them overplants.]

Mother: No more roses. It’s so funny ... everything decides to happen at the same time. This month is his birthday; his tree blows down, Annie comes. Everything that happened seems to be coming back. I was just down the cellar, and what do I stumble over? His baseball glove. I haven’t seen it in a century.

Chris: Don’t you think Annie looks well?Mother: Fine. There’s no question about it. She’s a beauty. ... I

still don’t know what brought her here. Not that I’m not glad to see her, but –

Chris: I just thought we’d all like to see each other again. [MOTHER justlooksathim,noddingeversoslightly–almostasthoughadmittingsomething.] And I wanted to see her myself.

Mother [ashernodshalt,to KELLER]: The only thing is I think her nose got longer. But I’ll always love that girl. She’s one that didn’t jump into bed with somebody else as soon as it happened with her fella.

Keller [asthoughthatwereimpossibleforAnnie]: Oh, what’re you – ?

Mother: Never mind. Most of them didn’t wait till the telegrams were opened. I’m just glad she came, so you can see I’m not completely out of my mind. [Sits, and rapidlybreaksstringbeansinthepot.]

Chris: Just because she isn’t married doesn’t mean she’s been mourning Larry.

Mother [with an undercurrent of observation]: Why then isn’t she?

Chris [alittleflustered]: Well ... it could’ve been any number of things.

Mother [directlyathim]: Like what, for instance?Chris [embarrassed, but standing his ground]: I don’t know.

Whatever it is. Can I get you an aspirin? [MOTHER putsherhandtoherhead.Shegetsupand

goesaimlesslytowardsthetreesonrising.]Mother: It’s not like a headache.

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Keller: You don’t sleep, that’s why. She’s wearing out more bedroom slippers than shoes.

Mother: I had a terrible night. [Shestopsmoving.] I never had a night like that.

Chris [looking at KELLER]: What was it, Mom? Did you dream?

Mother: More, more than a dream.Chris [hesitantly]: About Larry?Mother: I was fast asleep, and – [Raising her arm over the

audience.] Remember the way he used to fly low past the house when he was in training? When we used to see his face in the cockpit going by? That’s the way I saw him. Only high up. Way, way up, where the clouds are. He was so real I could reach out and touch him. And suddenly he started to fall. And crying, crying to me ... Mom, Mom! I could hear him like he was in the room. Mom! ... it was his voice! If I could touch him I knew I could stop him, if I could only – [Breaksoff,allowingheroutstretchedhandtofall.] I woke up and it was so funny – The wind ... it was like the roaring of his engine. I came out here ... I must’ve still been half asleep. I could hear that roaring like he was going by. The tree snapped right in front of me – and I like – came awake. [Sheislookingat tree.Shesuddenlyrealizessomething, turnswithareprimandingfingershakingslightlyat KELLER.] See? We should never have planted that tree. I said so in the first place; it was too soon to plant a tree for him.

[fromAct1]

How does Miller make this such a striking introduction to Kate?

2 What makes Miller’s portrayal of the relationship between Steve and George Deever such a powerful part of the play?

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J.B. PRIESTLEY: An Inspector Calls



Inspector [takingcharge,masterfully]: Stop!


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Sheila: But that’s not what I’m talking about. I don’t care about that. The point is, you don’t seem to have learnt anything.

[fromAct3]

In what ways does Priestley make this such a powerfully dramatic moment in the play?

4 Explore the ways in which Priestley creates such a memorable portrait of Eva Smith, despite the fact that she never appears in the play.

Do not use the extract printed in Question 3 in your answer.


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WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE: The Merchant of Venice



Shylock: Three thousand ducats – well.Bassanio: Ay, sir, for three months.Shylock: For three months – well.Bassanio: For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be bound.Shylock: Antonio shall become bound – well.Bassanio: May you stead me? Will you pleasure me? Shall I

know your answer?Shylock: Three thousand ducats for three months, and

Antonio bound.Bassanio: Your answer to that.Shylock: Antonio is a good man.Bassanio: Have you heard any imputation to the contrary?Shylock: Ho, no, no, no, no; my meaning in saying he is a

good man is to have you understand me that he is sufficient; yet his means are in supposition: he hath an argosy bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies; I understand, moreover, upon the Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England – and other ventures he hath, squand’red abroad. But ships are but boards, sailors but men; there be land-rats and water-rats, water-thieves and land-thieves – I mean pirates; and then there is the peril of waters, winds, and rocks. The man is, notwithstanding, sufficient. Three thousand ducats – I think I may take his bond.

Bassanio: Be assur’d you may.Shylock: I will be assur’d I may; and, that I may be assured, I

will bethink me. May I speak with Antonio?Bassanio: If it please you to dine with us.Shylock: Yes, to smell pork, to eat of the habitation which

your prophet, the Nazarite, conjured the devil into! I will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, and so following; but I will not eat with you, drink with you, nor pray with you. What news on the Rialto? Who is he comes here?

Enter ANTONIOBassanio: This is Signior Antonio.Shylock [Aside]: How like a fawning publican he looks!

I hate him for he is a Christian; But more for that in low simplicity He lends out money gratis, and brings down The rate of usance here with us in Venice. If I can catch him once upon the hip, I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. He hates our sacred nation; and he rails, Even there where merchants most do congregate, On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe If I forgive him!

Bassanio: Shylock, do you hear?Shylock: I am debating of my present store,

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And, by the near guess of my memory, I cannot instantly raise up the gross Of full three thousand ducats. What of that? Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe, Will furnish me. But soft! how many months Do you desire? [ToANTONIO] Rest you fair, good signior; Your worship was the last man in our mouths.

Antonio: Shylock, albeit I neither lend nor borrowBy taking nor by giving of excess, Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend, I’ll break a custom. [ToBASSANIO] Is he yet possess’dHow much ye would?

Shylock: Ay, ay, three thousand ducats.Antonio: And for three months.Shylock: I had forgot – three months; you told me so.

Well then, your bond; and, let me see – but hear you, Methoughts you said you neither lend nor borrow Upon advantage.

Antonio: I do never use it.

[fromAct1Scene3]

How does Shakespeare make you have mixed feelings about Shylock at this moment in the play?

6 Explore the ways in which Shakespeare makes false appearances so significant in the play.

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WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE: A Midsummer Night’s Dream



Enter QUINCE asthe PROLOGUE.Prologue: Ifweoffend,itiswithourgoodwill. Thatyoushouldthink,wecomenottooffend, Butwithgoodwill.Toshowoursimpleskill, Thatisthetruebeginningofourend. Considerthen,wecomebutindespite. Wedonotcome,asmindingtocontentyou, Ourtrueintentis.Allforyourdelight Wearenothere.Thatyoushouldhererepentyou, Theactorsareathand;and,bytheirshow, Youshallknowall,thatyouareliketoknow.Theseus: This fellow doth not stand upon points.Lysander: He hath rid his prologue like a rough colt; he knows

not the stop. A good moral my lord: it is not enough to speak, but to speak true.

Hippolyta: Indeed he hath play’d on this prologue like a child on a recorder – a sound, but not in government.

Theseus: His speech was like a tangled chain; nothing impaired, but all disordered. Who is next?

Enter,withaTrumpetbeforethem,asindumbshow, PYRAMUS and THISBY, WALL, MOONSHINE, and LION.

Prologue: Gentles,perchanceyouwonderatthisshow; Butwonderon,tilltruthmakeallthingsplain. ThismanisPyramus,ifyouwouldknow; ThisbeauteousladyThisbyiscertain. Thisman,withlimeandrough-cast,dothpresent Wall,thatvileWallwhichdidtheseloverssunder; AndthroughWall’schink,poorsouls,theyare

content Towhisper.Atthewhichletnomanwonder. Thisman,withlanthorn,dog,andbushofthorn, PresentethMoonshine;for,ifyouwillknow, Bymoonshinedidtheseloversthinknoscorn TomeetatNinus’tomb,there,theretowoo. Thisgrislybeast,whichLionhightbyname, ThetrustyThisby,comingfirstbynight, Didscareaway,orratherdidaffright; Andasshefled,hermantleshedidfall; WhichLionvilewithbloodymouthdidstain. AnoncomesPyramus,sweetyouthandtall, AndfindshistrustyThisby’smantleslain; Whereatwithblade,withbloodyblamefulblade, Hebravelybroach’dhisboilingbloodybreast; AndThisby,tarryinginmulberryshade, Hisdaggerdrew,anddied.Foralltherest, LetLion,Moonshine,Wall,andloverstwain, Atlargediscoursewhileheretheydoremain. [Exeunt PROLOGUE, PYRAMUS, THISBY,

LION,andMOONSHINE.

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Theseus: I wonder if the lion be to speak.Demetrius: No wonder, my lord: one lion may, when many asses

do.Wall: Inthissameinterludeitdothbefall ThatI,oneSnoutbyname,presentawall; AndsuchawallasIwouldhaveyouthink Thathadinitacranniedholeorchink, Throughwhichthelovers,PyramusandThisby, Didwhisperoftenverysecretly. Thisloam,thisrough-cast,andthisstone,doth

show ThatIamthatsamewall;thetruthisso; Andthisthecrannyis,rightandsinister, Throughwhichthefearfulloversaretowhisper.Theseus: Would you desire lime and hair to speak better?Demetrius: It is the wittiest partition that ever I heard discourse,

my lord. Enter PYRAMUS.Theseus: Pyramus draws near the wall; silence.Pyramus: Ogrim-look’dnight!Onightwithhuesoblack! Onight,whicheverartwhendayisnot! Onight,Onight,alack,alack,alack, IfearmyThisby’spromiseisforgot! Andthou,Owall,Osweet,Olovelywall, Thatstand’stbetweenherfather’sgroundandmine; Thouwall,Owall,Osweetandlovelywall, Showmethychink,toblinkthroughwithmineeyne.

[ WALLholdsuphisfingers. Thanks,courteouswall.Joveshieldtheewellfor

this! ButwhatseeI?NoThisbydoIsee. Owickedwall,throughwhomIseenobliss; Curs’dbethystonesforthusdeceivingme!Theseus: The wall, methinks, being sensible, should curse

again.Pyramus: No, in truth, sir, he should not. Deceiving me is

Thisby’s cue. She is to enter now, and I am to spy her through the wall. You shall see it will fall pat as I told you; yonder she comes.

[fromAct5Scene1]

How does Shakespeare make this such an enjoyable moment in the play?

8 Explore the ways in which Shakespeare strikingly portrays similarities between Oberon and Theseus.

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WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE: The Tempest



Gonzalo: Beseech you, sir, be merry; you have cause, So have we all, of joy; for our escape Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe Is common; every day, some sailor’s wife, The masters of some merchant, and the merchant, Have just our theme of woe; but for the miracle, I mean our preservation, few in millions Can speak like us. Then wisely, good sir, weigh Our sorrow with our comfort.Alonso: Prithee, peace.Sebastian: He receives comfort like cold porridge.Antonio: The visitor will not give him o’er so.Sebastian: Look, he’s winding up the watch of his wit; by and by

it will strike.Gonzalo: Sir –Sebastian: One – Tell.Gonzalo: When every grief is entertain’d that’s offer’d, Comes to th’ entertainer –Sebastian: A dollar.Gonzalo: Dolour comes to him, indeed; you have spoken truer

than you purpos’d.Sebastian: You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should.Gonzalo: Therefore, my lord –Antonio: Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!Alonso: I prithee, spare.Gonzalo: Well, I have done; but yet –Sebastian: He will be talking.Antonio: Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, first begins

to crow?Sebastian: The old cock.Antonio: The cock’rel.Sebastian: Done. The wager?Antonio: A laughter.Sebastian: A match!Adrian: Though this island seem to be desert –Antonio: Ha, ha, ha!Sebastian: So, you’re paid.Adrian: Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible –Sebastian: Yet –Adrian: Yet –Antonio: He could not miss’t.Adrian: It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate

temperance.Antonio: Temperance was a delicate wench.Sebastian: Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly deliver’d.Adrian: The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.Sebastian: As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.Antonio: Or, as ’twere perfum’d by a fen.Gonzalo: Here is everything advantageous to life.Antonio: True; save means to live.

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Sebastian: Of that there’s none, or little.Gonzalo: How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green!Antonio: The ground indeed is tawny.Sebastian: With an eye of green in’t.Antonio: He misses not much.Sebastian: No; he doth but mistake the truth totally.Gonzalo: But the rarity of it is, which is indeed almost beyond

credit –Sebastian: As many vouch’d rarities are.Gonzalo: That our garments, being, as they were, drench’d in

the sea, hold, notwithstanding, their freshness and glosses, being rather newdy’d, than stain’d with salt water.

Antonio: If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say he lies?

Sebastian: Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report.Gonzalo: Methinks our garments are now as fresh as when

we put them on first in Afric, at the marriage of the King’s fair daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis.

Sebastian: ’Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return.

Adrian: Tunis was never grac’d before with such a paragon to their queen.

Gonzalo: Not since widow Dido’s time. [fromAct2Scene1]

How does Shakespeare create striking impressions of the characters on stage at this moment in the play?

10 ‘In TheTempestgood clearly triumphs over evil.’ Explore the ways in which Shakespeare vividly conveys this to you.

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OSCAR WILDE: The Importance of Being Earnest



[Enter JACK slowly from the back of the garden.Heisdressedinthedeepestmourning,withcrêpehatbandandblackgloves.]

MissPrism: Mr Worthing!Chasuble: Mr Worthing?MissPrism: This is indeed a surprise. We did not look for you till

Monday afternoon.Jack [shakes MISS PRISM’s handinatragicmanner]: I

have returned sooner than I expected. Dr Chasuble, I hope you are well?

Chasuble: Dear Mr Worthing, I trust this garb of woe does not betoken some terrible calamity?

Jack: My brother.MissPrism: More shameful debts and extravagance?Chasuble: Still leading his life of pleasure?Jack [shakinghishead]: Dead!Chasuble: Your brother Ernest dead?Jack: Quite dead.MissPrism: What a lesson for him! I trust he will profit by it.Chasuble: Mr Worthing, I offer you my sincere condolence.

You have at least the consolation of knowing that you are always the most generous and forgiving of brothers.

Jack: Poor Ernest! He had many faults, but it is a sad, sad blow.

Chasuble: Very sad indeed. Were you with him at the end?Jack: No. He died abroad; in Paris, in fact. I had a

telegram last night from the manager of the Grand Hotel.

Chasuble: Was the cause of death mentioned?Jack: A severe chill, it seems.MissPrism: As a man sows, so shall he reap.Chasuble [raisinghishand]: Charity, dear Miss Prism, charity!

None of us are perfect. I myself am peculiarly susceptible to draughts. Will the interment take place here?

Jack: No. He seems to have expressed a desire to be buried in Paris.

Chasuble: In Paris! [Shakes his head.] I fear that hardly points to any very serious state of mind at the last. You would no doubt wish me to make some slight allusion to this tragic domestic affliction next Sunday. [JACK presses his hand convulsively.] My sermon on the meaning of the manna in the wilderness can be adapted to almost any occasion, joyful, or, as in the present case, distressing. [Allsigh.] I have preached it at harvest celebrations, christenings, confirmations, on days of humiliation and festal days. The last time I delivered it was in the Cathedral, as a charity sermon on behalf of the

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Society for the Prevention of Discontent among the Upper Orders. The Bishop, who was present, was much struck by some of the analogies I drew.

Jack: Ah! that reminds me, you mentioned christenings I think, Dr Chasuble? I suppose you know how to christen all right? [DR CHASUBLE looksastounded.] I mean, of course, you are continually christening, aren’t you?

MissPrism: It is, I regret to say, one of the Rector’s most constant duties in this parish. I have often spoken to the poorer classes on the subject. But they don’t seem to know what thrift is.

Chasuble: But is there any particular infant in whom you are interested, Mr Worthing? Your brother was, I believe, unmarried, was he not?

Jack: Oh yes.MissPrism [bitterly]: People who live entirely for pleasure

usually are.Jack: But it is not for any child, dear Doctor. I am very

fond of children. No! the fact is, I would like to be christened myself, this afternoon, if you have nothing better to do.

Chasuble: But surely, Mr Worthing, you have been christened already?

Jack: I don’t remember anything about it.Chasuble: But have you any grave doubts on the subject?Jack: I certainly intend to have. Of course I don’t know

if the thing would bother you in any way, or if you think I am a little too old now.

Chasuble: Not at all. The sprinkling, and, indeed, the immersionof adults is a perfectly canonical practice.

Jack: Immersion!

[fromAct2]

How does Wilde make this such an entertaining moment in the play?

12 Cecily is described as ‘a sweet, simple, innocent girl’ by Jack. How far does Wilde make you agree with this description?

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This document consists of 26 printed pages, 2 blank pages and 1 insert.

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Paper 1 Poetry and Prose October/November 2015

1 hour 30 minutes




Answer two questions. Your answers must be on two different set texts.


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CONTENTS

Section A: Poetry


Thomas Hardy: from Selected Poems 1, 2 pages 4–6from Jo Phillips ed: Poems Deep & Dangerous 3, 4 pages 8–9Songs of Ourselves : from Part 4 5, 6 pages 10–11

Section B: Prose


Jane Austen: Northanger Abbey 7, 8 pages 12–13Tsitsi Dangarembga: Nervous Conditions 9, 10 pages 14–15Anita Desai: Fasting, Feasting 11, 12 pages 16–17Helen Dunmore: The Siege 13, 14 pages 18–19George Eliot: Silas Marner 15, 16 pages 20–21Susan Hill: I’m the King of the Castle 17, 18 pages 22–23Robert Louis Stevenson: The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde 19, 20 pages 24–25from Stories of Ourselves 21, 22 pages 26–27

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SECTION A: POETRY

THOMAS HARDY: from Selected Poems


Either 1 Explore the ways in which Hardy creates strong feelings of loneliness in both The Darkling Thrush and Drummer Hodge.

The Darkling Thrush

I leant upon a coppice gate When Frost was spectre-gray,And Winter’s dregs made desolate The weakening eye of day.The tangled bine-stems scored the sky Like strings of broken lyres,And all mankind that haunted nigh Had sought their household fires.

The land’s sharp features seemed to be The Century’s corpse outleant,His crypt the cloudy canopy, The wind his death-lament.The ancient pulse of germ and birth Was shrunken hard and dry,And every spirit upon earth Seemed fervourless as I.

At once a voice arose among The bleak twigs overheadIn a full-hearted evensong Of joy illimited;An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small, In blast-beruffled plume,Had chosen thus to fling his soul Upon the growing gloom.

So little cause for carolings Of such ecstatic soundWas written on terrestrial things Afar or nigh around,That I could think there trembled through His happy good-night airSome blessed Hope, whereof he knew And I was unaware.

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Drummer Hodge

IThey throw in Drummer Hodge, to rest Uncoffined – just as found:His landmark is a kopje-crest That breaks the veldt around;And foreign constellations west Each night above his mound.

IIYoung Hodge the Drummer never knew – Fresh from his Wessex home –The meaning of the broad Karoo, The Bush, the dusty loam,And why uprose to nightly view Strange stars amid the gloam.

IIIYet portion of that unknown plain Will Hodge for ever be;His homely Northern breast and brain Grow to some Southern tree,And strange-eyed constellations reign His stars eternally.

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Or 2 Read this poem, and then answer the question that follows it:

No Buyers

A STREET SCENE

A load of brushes and baskets and cradles and chairsLabours along the street in the rain:

With it a man, a woman, a pony with whiteybrown hairs. –The man foots in front of the horse with a shambling sway

At a slower tread than a funeral train,While to a dirge-like tune he chants his wares,Swinging a Turk’s-head brush (in a drum-major’s way

When the bandsmen march and play).

A yard from the back of the man is the whiteybrown pony’s nose:He mirrors his master in every item of pace and pose:

He stops when the man stops, without being told,And seems to be eased by a pause; too plainly he’s old,

Indeed, not strength enough showsTo steer the disjointed waggon straight,

Which wriggles left and right in a rambling line,Deflected thus by its own warp and weight,And pushing the pony with it in each incline.

The woman walks on the pavement verge,Parallel to the man:

She wears an apron white and wide in span,And carries a like Turk’s-head, but more in nursing-wise:

Now and then she joins in his dirge,But as if her thoughts were on distant things.The rain clams her apron till it clings. –

So, step by step, they move with their merchandize,And nobody buys.

Explore the ways in which Hardy creates such a sad picture in No Buyers: A Street Scene.

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from JO PHILLIPS ed: Poems Deep & Dangerous



In Our Tenth Year

This book, this page, this harebell laid to restbetween these sheets, these leaves, if pressed still bleedsa watercolour of the way we were.

Those years: the fuss of such and such a day,that disagreement and its final word,your inventory of names and dates and times,my infantries of tall, dark, handsome lies.

A decade on, now we astound ourselves;still two, still twinned but doubled now with loveand for a single night apart, alone,how sure we are, each of the other half.

This harebell holds its own. Let’s give it nowin air, in light, the chance to fade, to fold.Here, take it from my hand. Now, let it go.

(Simon Armitage )

In what ways does Armitage memorably portray the speaker’s feelings in In Our Tenth Year ?

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Or 4 How does Jennings movingly convey her feelings about her parents to you in One Flesh ?

One Flesh

Lying apart now, each in a separate bed,He with a book, keeping the light on late,She like a girl dreaming of childhood,All men elsewhere – it is as if they waitSome new event: the book he holds unread,Her eyes fixed on the shadows overhead.

Tossed up like flotsam from a former passion,How cool they lie. They hardly ever touch,Or if they do it is like a confessionOf having little feeling – or too much.Chastity faces them, a destinationFor which their whole lives were a preparation.

Strangely apart, yet strangely close together,Silence between them like a thread to holdAnd not wind in. And time itself’s a featherTouching them gently. Do they know they’re old,These two who are my father and my motherWhose fire from which I came, has now grown cold?

(Elizabeth Jennings )

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SONGS OF OURSELVES: from Part 4



Where I Come From

People are made of places. They carry with themhints of jungles or mountains, a tropic graceor the cool eyes of sea-gazers. Atmosphere of citieshow different drops from them, like the smell of smogor the almost-not-smell of tulips in the spring,nature tidily plotted in little squareswith a fountain in the centre; museum smell,art also tidily plotted with a guidebook;or the smell of work, glue factories maybe,chromium-plated offices; smell of subwayscrowded at rush hours.

Where I come from, peoplecarry woods in their minds, acres of pine woods;blueberry patches in the burned-out bush;wooden farmhouses, old, in need of paint,with yards where hens and chickens circle about,clucking aimlessly; battered schoolhousesbehind which violets grow. Spring and winterare the mind’s chief seasons: ice and the breaking of ice.

A door in the mind blows open, and there blowsa frosty wind from fields of snow.

(Elizabeth Brewster )

How does Brewster vividly convey a sense of different places in Where I Come From ?

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Or 6 Explore the ways in which Halligan uses words and images vividly in The Cockroach.

The Cockroach

I watched a giant cockroach start to pace,Skirting a ball of dust that rode the floor.At first he seemed quite satisfied to traceA path between the wainscot and the door,But soon he turned to jog in crooked rings,Circling the rusty table leg and back,And flipping right over to scratch his wings –As if the victim of a mild attackOf restlessness that worsened over time.After a while, he climbed an open shelfAnd stopped. He looked uncertain where to go.Was this due payment for some vicious crimeA former life had led to? I don’t know,Except I thought I recognised myself.

(Kevin Halligan)

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SECTION B: PROSE

JANE AUSTEN: Northanger Abbey



‘Yes, yes,’ (with a blush) ‘there are more ways than one of our being sisters. – But where am I wandering to? – Well, my dear Catherine, the case seems to be, that you are determined against poor John – is not it so?’

‘I certainly cannot return his affection, and as certainly never meant to encourage it.’

‘Since that is the case, I am sure I shall not tease you any further. John desired me to speak to you on the subject, and therefore I have. But I confess, as soon as I read his letter, I thought it a very foolish, imprudent business, and not likely to promote the good of either; for what were you to live upon, supposing you came together? You have both of you something to be sure, but it is not a trifle that will support a family now-a-days; and after all that romancers may say, there is no doing without money. I only wonder John could think of it; he could not have received my last.’

‘You do acquit me then of anything wrong? – You are convinced that I never meant to deceive your brother, never suspected him of liking me till this moment?’

‘Oh! as to that,’ answered Isabella laughingly, ‘I do not pretend to determine what your thoughts and designs in time past may have been. All that is best known to yourself. A little harmless flirtation or so will occur, and one is often drawn on to give more encouragement than one wishes to stand by. But you may be assured that I am the last person in the world to judge you severely. All those things should be allowed for in youth and high spirits. What one means one day, you know, one may not mean the next. Circumstances change, opinions alter.’

‘But my opinion of your brother never did alter; it was always the same. You are describing what never happened.’

‘My dearest Catherine,’ continued the other without at all listening to her, ‘I would not for all the world be the means of hurrying you into an engagement before you knew what you were about. I do not think anything would justify me in wishing you to sacrifice all your happiness merely to oblige my brother, because he is my brother, and who perhaps after all, you know, might be just as happy without you, for people seldom know what they would be at, young men especially, they are so amazingly changeable and inconstant. What I say is, why should a brother’s happiness be dearer to me than a friend’s? You know I carry my notions of friendship pretty high. But, above all things, my dear Catherine, do not be in a hurry. Take my word for it, that if you are in too great a hurry, you will certainly live to repent it. Tilney says, there is nothing people are so often deceived in, as the state of their own affections, and I believe he is very right. Ah! here he comes; never mind, he will not see us, I am sure.’

Catherine, looking up, perceived Captain Tilney; and Isabella, earnestly fixing her eye on him as she spoke, soon caught his notice. He approached immediately, and took the seat to which her movements invited him. His first address made Catherine start. Though spoken low, she could distinguish,

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‘What! always to be watched, in person or by proxy!’‘Psha, nonsense!’ was Isabella’s answer in the same half whisper. ‘Why

do you put such things into my head? If I could believe it – my spirit, you know, is pretty independent.’

‘I wish your heart were independent. That would be enough for me.’‘My heart, indeed! What can you have to do with hearts? You men have

none of you any hearts.’‘If we have not hearts, we have eyes; and they give us torment enough.’‘Do they? I am sorry for it; I am sorry they find anything so disagreeable

in me. I will look another way. I hope this pleases you, (turning her back on him,) I hope your eyes are not tormented now.’

‘Never more so; for the edge of a blooming cheek is still in view – at once too much and too little.’

Catherine heard all this, and quite out of countenance could listen no longer.

[from Chapter 18]

In what ways does Austen make this such a revealing and significant moment in the novel?

Or 8 Who does Austen’s writing persuade you is the villain of the novel – and why?

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TSITSI DANGAREMBGA: Nervous Conditions


Either 9 Read the following extract, and then answer the question that follows it:

Babamukuru was of the opinion that enough chances had come my way, and on another level he agreed with Nyasha that the experience would not be good for me. From his armchair opposite the fireplace he told me why I could not go to the convent.

‘It is not a question of money,’ he assured me. ‘Although there would still be a lot of expense on my part, you have your scholarship, so the major financial burden would be lifted. But I feel that even that little money could be better used. For one thing, there is now the small boy at home. Every month I put away a little bit, a very little bit, a very little bit every month, so that when he is of school-going age everything will be provided for. As you know, he is the only boy in your family, so he must be provided for. As for you, we think we are providing for you quite well. By the time you have finished your Form Four you will be able to take your course, whatever it is that you choose. In time you will be earning money. You will be in a position to be married by a decent man and set up a decent home. In all that we are doing for you, we are preparing you for this future life of yours, and I have observed from my own daughter’s behaviour that it is not a good thing for a young girl to associate too much with these white people, to have too much freedom. I have seen that girls who do that do not develop into decent women.’

Marriage. I had nothing against it in principle. In an abstract way I thought it was a very good idea. But it was irritating the way it always cropped up in one form or another, stretching its tentacles back to bind me before I had even begun to think about it seriously, threatening to disrupt my life before I could even call it my own. Babamukuru had lost me with his talk of marriage. I inspected my dressing-gown for fluff, waiting for the session to end. ‘This,’ continued my uncle, ‘is what I shall tell your father: if he wishes to send you there to that school, he may do so if he can find the money. Myself, I would not consider it money well spent. Mai,’ he concluded, turning to my aunt, ‘is there anything that you would wish to say?’

‘Yes, Baba,’ Maiguru spoke up softly from the sofa. My inspection came to an abrupt end. I listened incredulously.

‘You do!’ exclaimed Babamukuru and, recovering himself, invited her to continue. ‘Speak freely, Mai. Say whatever you are thinking.’

There was a pause during which Maiguru folded her arms and leant back in the sofa. ‘I don’t think,’ she began easily in her soft, soothing voice, ‘that Tambudzai will be corrupted by going to that school. Don’t you remember, when we went to South Africa everybody was saying that we, the women, were loose.’ Babamukuru winced at this explicitness. Maiguru continued. ‘It wasn’t a question of associating with this race or that race at that time. People were prejudiced against educated women. Prejudiced. That’s why they said we weren’t decent. That was in the fifties. Now we are into the seventies. I am disappointed that people still believe the same things. After all this time and when we have seen nothing to say it is true. I don’t know what people mean by a loose woman – sometimes she is someone who walks the streets, sometimes she is an educated woman, sometimes she is a successful man’s daughter or she is simply beautiful. Loose or decent, I don’t know. All I know is that if our daughter Tambudzai is not a decent

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person now, she never will be, no matter where she goes to school. And if she is decent, then this convent should not change her. As for money, you have said yourself that she has a full scholarship. It is possible that you have other reasons why she should not go there, Babawa Chido, but these – the question of decency and the question of money – are the ones I have heard and so these are the ones I have talked of.’

There was another pause during which Maiguru unfolded her arms and clasped her hands in her lap.

Babamukuru cleared his throat. ‘Er, Tambudzai,’ he asked tentatively, ‘do you have anything to say?’

[from Chapter 9]

Explore the ways in which Dangarembga makes this a memorable and significant moment in the novel.

Or 10 To what extent does Dangarembga’s writing make you feel that Tambu loses something of value by trying to gain an education?

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ANITA DESAI: Fasting, Feasting



At thirteen, Aruna still had thin brown legs and wore her hair plaited and tied in loops over her ears with large ribbons. Even though she had to dress in the faded blue cotton slip ordained by the convent, and white not coloured ribbons, there was already something about the way she tossed her head when she saw a man looking at her, with a sidelong look of both scorn and laughter, and the way her foot tapped and her legs changed position, that might have alerted the family to what it could expect. Even if Mama was indignant in refusing, she was impressed too, and – Uma saw – respectful of this display of her younger daughter’s power of attraction.

By the time Aruna was fourteen she was rebelling against the blue cotton tunic and the white hair ribbons. At every opportunity she would shed them and change into flowered silk salwars. ‘Silk!’ Uma would exclaim, and Papa would sit up and take notice, frowning, but Mama was inclined to indulge Aruna and perhaps realised, instinctively, that if she did, there would be rewards to reap. So Aruna fluttered about in flowered silk, and the hair ribbons were replaced with little shiny plastic clips and clasps, and flowers that she picked from the dusty shrubs and hedges. When Uma was still watching to see that Arun did not crawl off the veranda and break his neck or put knitting needles or naphthalene balls in his mouth, Aruna was already climbing into bicycle rickshaws and going off to the cinema – with girl friends from school, she said. That was quite true, but she did not mention the young men who took the seats behind them, or even beside them, tempestuously throwing out a knee, an elbow, or even a hand at times, and contriving to touch the little, flustered, excited creatures, then followed them home on their bicycles, weaving through the traffic and singing ardently along the way.

While Mama searched energetically for a husband for Uma, families were already ‘making enquiries’ about Aruna. Yet nothing could be done about them; it was imperative that Uma marry first. That was the only decent, the only respectable line of behaviour. That also explained why MamaPapa responded so eagerly to an advertisement in a Sunday newspaper placed by ‘a decent family’ in search of a bride for their only son. MamaPapa went together to meet them and found it was a cloth merchant’s family from the bazaar which had recently begun to prosper and was building a new house on the outskirts of the city. They had purchased a large piece of land in what had formerly been a swamp but was being reclaimed by the municipality by filling it in with city refuse; it was now marked into plots and even had some gates and walls coming up to show the beginnings of urbanisation. The merchant’s family had laid the foundation of what would clearly be a palatial dwelling compared to the cramped quarters they had occupied for generations in the city. But, the father explained – disarmingly – they could not proceed until they came into some money, and here the dowry mentioned by Papa would come in useful. He was being frank with Papa, but then it was Papa’s daughter who would come to his house as a bride. Papa looked dubious at this confession, but Mama was so delighted by the sight of prospective prosperity that she could not be restrained. They themselves owned no house; Papa had always refused to move out of their rented one with which he was perfectly content, leaving Mama

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with an enormous, unfulfilled desire for property. Why should Uma not fulfil it if she could not? A negotiated sum was made over as dowry, and the engagement ceremony arranged simultaneously.

[from Chapter 7]

What does Desai’s writing make you feel about Mama and Papa at this moment in the novel?

Or 12 How does Desai’s writing make Anamika so memorable and significant in the novel?

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HELEN DUNMORE: The Siege



But the terrible thing about coming back to life is that you can’t be at peace any more. There are a thousand things to torment you. Before, I didn’t mind what happened. I could let it all slip away. I didn’t listen to the radio, even though Marina has it on all the time. But now I’m afraid, just like everyone else. When Marina takes the boy down to the air-raid shelter, I’m afraid that I’ll never see them again. I lie here: that’s all I can do. I listen to the anti-aircraft guns and sometimes I can hear planes. They aren’t our fighters. They drum above the roof and I find myself praying, even though I never pray. Always the same words: if it falls, let it be a bomb, not an incendiary. The sheets stick to me with sweat.

I am not afraid of bombs. But if an incendiary took hold here, I wouldn’t be able to get away. I’m afraid of that.

Last night I dreamed of Marina and the child. They were trying to wade towards me through a river which was full of fire instead of water. But he slipped and went down and then he floated away, slowly at first then faster and faster, with the fire lapping around his head. Marina kept on looking at me. I knew she wanted to tell me why she hadn’t rescued him. It was because it was too late for him. He would suffer too much if he was brought up into the air again.

When I woke up I was wet with sweat and the guns were still crackling. They drop phosphorus bombs. Water can’t put out phosphorus: it burns and burns. Last night there was a terrible screaming that went on and on, and I think it was that which made me dream about Kolya, and the fire. Marina says they weren’t human screams. A bomb hit the zoo and the animals were wounded. Some of the cages were blown open and the animals were running up and down the streets. I suppose they had to be shot in the end.

Marina says they’re not selling any food off the rations now. The restaurants are closed. She sits on my bed and tells me how many potatoes we’ve got left, how many onions, how many grammes of lard. She counts them over aloud, then counts them again. We both enjoy it. If she stops, I ask her more questions. ‘How many potatoes did you say exactly, Marina?’

Kolya loves peeping into the store-cupboard and seeing how many jars there are. He doesn’t try to touch anything. He stares solemnly for a while, and then he says, ‘We’ve got lots of food, haven’t we, Marina?’ She answers, ‘Yes, we’re very fortunate,’ and he nods, satisfied, and goes back to his game.

There’s been further bombing of food stocks, but no one knows exactly where. Now we know that they don’t just want to defeat us. They want to destroy us. Nothing in Leningrad matters to them at all. Not a stone, or a child. Carthage must be destroyed.

But there’s freedom in knowing it. We can’t make deals with them any more. So much for our pact. We have no choice left. We have to resist.

[from Chapter 15]

How does Dunmore vividly convey Mikhail’s thoughts and feelings to you at this moment in the novel?

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Or 14 What does Dunmore’s writing make you feel about the way the Russian Government affects the lives of two of the following characters in the novel?

Elizaveta Antonovna Fedya Marina Petrovna

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GEORGE ELIOT: Silas Marner



‘Is she dead?’ said the voice that predominated over every other within him. ‘If she is, I may marry Nancy; and then I shall be a good fellow in future, and have no secrets, and the child – shall be taken care of somehow.’ But across that vision came the other possibility – ‘She may live, and then it’s all up with me.’

Godfrey never knew how long it was before the door of the cottage opened and Mr Kimble came out. He went forward to meet his uncle, prepared to suppress the agitation he must feel, whatever news he was to hear.

‘I waited for you, as I’d come so far,’ he said, speaking first.‘Pooh, it was nonsense for you to come out: why didn’t you send one

of the men? There’s nothing to be done. She’s dead – has been dead for hours, I should say.’

‘What sort of woman is she?’ said Godfrey, feeling the blood rush to his face.

‘A young woman, but emaciated, with long black hair. Some vagrant – quite in rags. She’s got a wedding-ring on, however. They must fetch her away to the workhouse tomorrow. Come, come along.’

‘I want to look at her,’ said Godfrey. ‘I think I saw such a woman yesterday. I’ll overtake you in a minute or two.’

Mr Kimble went on, and Godfrey turned back to the cottage. He cast only one glance at the dead face on the pillow, which Dolly had smoothed with decent care; but he remembered that last look at his unhappy hated wife so well, that at the end of sixteen years every line in the worn face was present to him when he told the full story of this night.

He turned immediately towards the hearth where Silas Marner sat lulling the child. She was perfectly quiet now, but not asleep – only soothed by sweet porridge and warmth into that wide-gazing calm which makes us older human beings, with our inward turmoil, feel a certain awe in the presence of a little child, such as we feel before some quiet majesty or beauty in the earth or sky – before a steady-glowing planet, or a full-flowered eglantine, or the bending trees over a silent pathway. The wide-open blue eyes looked up at Godfrey’s without any uneasiness or sign of recognition: the child could make no visible audible claim on its father; and the father felt a strange mixture of feelings, a conflict of regret and joy, that the pulse of that little heart had no response for the half-jealous yearning in his own, when the blue eyes turned away from him slowly, and fixed themselves on the weaver’s queer face, which was bent low down to look at them, while the small hand began to pull Marner’s withered cheek with loving disfiguration.

‘You’ll take the child to the parish tomorrow?’ asked Godfrey, speaking as indifferently as he could.

‘Who says so?’ said Marner, sharply. ‘Will they make me take her?’‘Why, you wouldn’t like to keep her, should you – an old bachelor like you?’‘Till anybody shows they’ve a right to take her away from me,’ said

Marner. ‘The mother’s dead, and I reckon it’s got no father: it’s a lone thing – and I’m a lone thing. My money’s gone, I don’t know where – and this is come from I don’t know where. I know nothing – I’m partly mazed.’

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‘Poor little thing!’ said Godfrey. ‘Let me give something towards finding it clothes.’

He had put his hand in his pocket and found half-a-guinea, and, thrusting it into Silas’s hand, he hurried out of the cottage to overtake Mr Kimble.

‘Ah, I see it’s not the same woman I saw,’ he said, as he came up. ‘It’s a pretty little child: the old fellow seems to want to keep it; that’s strange for a miser like him. But I gave him a trifle to help him out: the parish isn’t likely to quarrel with him for the right to keep the child.’

[from Chapter 13]

In what ways does Eliot make this such a striking and significant moment in the novel?

Or 16 How does Eliot vividly portray Silas’s loneliness before Eppie comes into his life?

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SUSAN HILL: I’m the King of the Castle



‘What are you going to do?’Kingshaw looked down at him coldly.‘Climb,’ he said.They were inside the ruin. The outer walls reached up very high, and

there were odd bits of stone staircase, ending abruptly, so that you could step off into air, or on to parapets, and the remains of pillars, flat-topped like stepping stones. The surface was the colour of damp sand, rough and grainy to the touch, except where bits of moss and lichen grew out of the cracks.

‘I bet you won’t dare go up far.’Kingshaw smiled to himself. He moved steadily from stone to stone,

along the edge of one wall. He wanted to get as high as he could, up beside the tower.

Hooper watched him from below.‘You’ll fall off.’Kingshaw ignored him. He was sure-footed and unhurried, not afraid of

any height. He looked down. Hooper was immediately below him. Kingshaw waved an arm.

‘Why don’t you come up as well?’His voice echoed round the castle walls. Hooper had got his penknife

out and was digging his initials into a slab of stone.‘You’ll catch it if anyone sees you. You’re not supposed to do that. They

can put you in prison for doing it.’Hooper went on scratching.The walls were narrower here. Kingshaw went down on all fours, and

made sure of the surface with his hands, as he went along, moving very slowly forwards. They had put new mortar between the spaces, though, so that there were no loose stones.

Now the wall went up about a foot, on to the next level. He manoeuvred the step, and then stood upright, carefully, and looked around. Outside of the castle, he could see the flat grass and the lake, and his mother and Mr Hooper, sitting on their bench at the far side. He felt high above them, very tall and strong, and safe, too, nobody could touch him. He thought, this is all right, I don’t care about any of them here, they can’t do anything at all to me, I don’t care, I don’t care. He felt light-headed, exulting in the freedom of it. If he reached his arm up, he might touch the sky.

But even up here, it was warm and airless.He shouted down to Hooper, ‘I’m a bowman, I’m the head warrior of this

castle. If I shoot an arrow, I can kill you.’Hooper looked up.‘I’m the King of the Castle!’ Kingshaw began to wave his arms about,

and to prance a little, delicately, on top of the wall. If he walked forwards a few yards farther, he would come to a gap. If he could jump it, he would be out on the parapet, leading to the tower.

[from Chapter 12]

What does Hill’s writing make you feel at this moment in the novel?

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Or 18 How does Hill’s writing powerfully show that Kingshaw is an easy target for Hooper’s tormenting?

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ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON: The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde



‘Hold your tongue!’ Poole said to her, with a ferocity of accent that testified to his own jangled nerves; and indeed, when the girl had so suddenly raised the note of her lamentation, they had all started and turned towards the inner door with faces of dreadful expectation. ‘And now,’ continued the butler, addressing the knife-boy, ‘reach me a candle, and we’ll get this through hands at once.’ And then he begged Mr Utterson to follow him, and led the way to the back garden.

‘Now, sir,’ said he, ‘you come as gently as you can. I want you to hear, and I don’t want you to be heard. And see here, sir, if by any chance he was to ask you in, don’t go.’

Mr Utterson’s nerves, at this unlooked-for termination, gave a jerk that nearly threw him from his balance; but he recollected his courage and followed the butler into the laboratory building and through the surgical theatre, with its lumber of crates and bottles, to the foot of the stair. Here Poole motioned him to stand on one side and listen; while he himself, setting down the candle and making a great and obvious call on his resolution, mounted the steps and knocked with a somewhat uncertain hand on the red baize of the cabinet door.

‘Mr Utterson, sir, asking to see you,’ he called; and even as he did so, once more violently signed to the lawyer to give ear.

A voice answered from within: ‘Tell him I cannot see anyone,’ it said complainingly.

‘Thank you, sir,’ said Poole, with a note of something like triumph in his voice; and taking up his candle, he led Mr Utterson back across the yard and into the great kitchen, where the fire was out and the beetles were leaping on the floor.

‘Sir,’ he said, looking Mr Utterson in the eyes, ‘was that my master’s voice?’

‘It seems much changed,’ replied the lawyer, very pale, but giving look for look.

‘Changed? Well, yes, I think so,’ said the butler. ‘Have I been twenty years in this man’s house, to be deceived about his voice? No, sir; master’s made away with; he was made away with, eight days ago, when we heard him cry out upon the name of God: and who’s in there instead of him, and why it stays there, is a thing that cries to Heaven, Mr Utterson!’

‘This is a very strange tale, Poole; this is rather a wild tale, my man,’ said Mr Utterson, biting his finger. ‘Suppose it were as you suppose, supposing Dr Jekyll to have been—well, murdered, what could induce the murderer to stay? That won’t hold water; it doesn’t commend itself to reason.’

‘Well, Mr Utterson, you are a hard man to satisfy, but I’ll do it yet,’ said Poole. ‘All this last week (you must know) him, or it, or whatever it is that lives in that cabinet, has been crying night and day for some sort of medicine and cannot get it to his mind. It was sometimes his way—the master’s, that is—to write his orders on a sheet of paper and throw it on the stair. We’ve had nothing else this week back; nothing but papers, and a closed door, and the very meals left there to be smuggled in when nobody was looking. Well, sir, every day, ay, and twice and thrice in the same day, there have been orders and complaints, and I have been sent flying to all

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the wholesale chemists in town. Every time I brought the stuff back, there would be another paper telling me to return it, because it was not pure, and another order to a different firm. This drug is wanted bitter bad, sir, whatever for.’

[from Chapter 8, ‘The Last Night’]

How does Stevenson make this moment in the novel so tense?

Or 20 Explore one moment in the novel where Stevenson’s writing makes you feel particularly shocked.

Do not use the extract printed in Question 19 in your answer.

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from Stories of Ourselves


Either 21 Read this extract from My Greatest Ambition (by Morris Lurie), and then answer the question that follows it:

‘I have an appointment to see the editor of Boy Magazine,’ I said.‘Oh,’ she said.‘At ten o’clock,’ I said. ‘I think I’m early.’ It was half past nine.‘Just one minute,’ she said, and picked up a telephone. While she was

talking I looked around the foyer, in which there was nothing to look at, but I don’t like eavesdropping on people talking on the phone.

Then she put down the phone and said to me, ‘Won’t be long. Would you like to take a seat?’

For some reason that caught me unawares and I flashed her a blinding smile and kept standing there, wondering what was going to happen next, and then I realised what she had said and I smiled again and turned around and bumped into a chair and sat down and crossed my legs and looked around and then remembered the shortness of my trousers and quickly uncrossed my legs and sat perfectly straight and still, except for looking at my watch ten times in the next thirty seconds.

I don’t know how long I sat there. It was either five minutes or an hour, it’s hard to say. The lady at the desk didn’t seem to have anything to do, and I didn’t like looking at her, but from time to time our eyes met, and I would smile – or was that smile stretched across my face from the second I came in? I used to do things like that when I was thirteen.

Finally a door opened and another lady appeared. She seemed, for some reason, quite surprised when she saw me sitting there, as though I had three eyes or was wearing a red suit, but I must say this for her, she had poise, she pulled herself together very quickly, hardly dropped a stitch, as it were, and holding open the door through which she had come, she said, ‘Won’t you come this way?’ and I did.

I was shown into an office that was filled with men in grey suits. Actually, there were only three of them, but they all stood up when I came in, and the effect was overpowering. I think I might even have taken a half-step back. But my blinding smile stayed firm.

The only name I remember is Randell and maybe I have that wrong. There was a lot of handshaking and smiling and saying of names. And when all that was done, no one seemed to know what to do. We just stood there, all uncomfortably smiling.

Finally, the man whose name might have been Randell said, ‘Oh, please, please, sit down,’ and everyone did.

‘Well,’ Mr Randell said. ‘You’re a young man to be drawing comics, I must say.’

‘I’ve been interested in comics all my life.’ I said.‘Well, we like your comic very much,’ he said. ‘And we’d like to make you

an offer for it. Ah, fifteen pounds?’‘I accept,’ I said.I don’t think Mr Randell was used to receiving quick decisions, for he

then said something that seemed to me enormously ridiculous. ‘That’s, ah, two pounds ten a page,’ he said, and looked at me with his eyes wide open and one eyebrow higher than the other.

‘Yes, that’s right,’ I said. ‘Six two-and-a-halfs are fifteen. Exactly.’

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That made his eyes open even wider, and suddenly he shut them altogether and looked down at the floor. One of the other men coughed. No one seemed to know what to do. I leaned back in my chair and crossed my legs and just generally smiled at everyone. I knew what was coming. A job. And I knew what I was going to say then, too.

And then Mr Randell collected himself, as though he had just thought of something very important (what an actor, I thought) and he said, ‘Oh, there is one other thing, though. Jim, do we have Mr Lurie’s comic here?’

‘Right here,’ said Jim, and whipped it out from under a pile of things on a desk.

‘Some of the, ah, spelling,’ Mr Randell said.‘Oh?’ I said.‘Well, yes, there are, ah, certain things,’ he said, turning over the pages

of my comic, ‘not, ah, big mistakes, but, here, see? You’ve spelt it as “jungel” which is not, ah, common usage.’

‘You’re absolutely right,’ I said, flashing out my fountain pen all ready to make the correction.

‘Oh, no no no,’ Mr Randell said. ‘Don’t you worry about it. We’ll, ah, make the corrections. If you approve, that is.’

‘Of course,’ I said.‘We’ll, ah, post you our cheque for, ah, fifteen pounds,’ he said. ‘In the

mail,’ he added, rather lamely, it seemed to me.‘Oh, there’s no great hurry about that,’ I said. ‘Any old time at all will do.’‘Yes,’ he said.Then we fell into another of these silences with which this appointment

seemed to be plagued. Mr Randell scratched his neck. A truck just outside the window started with a roar and then began to whine and grind. It’s reversing, I thought. My face felt stiff from smiling, but somehow I couldn’t let it go.

How does Lurie make the narrator such a likeable character here?

Or 22 Explore the ways in which Graham Greene makes the story The Destructors both disturbing and amusing for you.

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*8011782900*


Paper 2 Drama October/November 2015

1 hour 30 minutes




Answer two questions.Your questions may be on the same play, or on two different plays.


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ARTHUR MILLER: All My Sons


1 Read this passage, and then answer the question that follows it:

Chris [quietly, incredibly]: How could you do that? How?

Keller: What’s the matter with you!

Chris: Dad … Dad, you killed twenty-one men!

Keller: What, killed?

Chris: You killed them, you murdered them.

Keller [as though throwing his whole nature open before CHRIS]: How could I kill anybody?

Chris: Dad! Dad!

Keller [trying to hush him]: I didn’t kill anybody!

Chris: Then explain it to me. What did you do? Explain it to me or I’ll tear you to pieces!

Keller [horrified at his overwhelming fury ]: Don’t, Chris, don’t –

Chris: I want to know what you did, now what did you do? You had a hundred and twenty cracked engine-heads, now what did you do?

Keller: If you’re going to hang me then I –

Chris: I’m listening. God Almighty, I’m listening!

Keller [ – their movements now are those of subtle pursuit and escape. KELLER keeps a step out of CHRIS’s range as he talks.]: You’re a boy, what could I do! I’m in business, a man is in business; a hundred and twenty cracked, you’re out of business; you got a process, the process don’t work you’re out of business; you don’t know how to operate, your stuff is no good; they close you up, they tear up your contracts, what the hell’s it to them? You lay forty years into a business and they knock you out in five minutes, what could I do, let them take forty years, let them take my life away? [His voice cracking] I never thought they’d install them. I swear to God. I thought they’d stop ’em before anybody took off.

Chris: Then why’d you ship them out?

Keller: By the time they could spot them I thought I’d have the process going again, and I could show them they needed me and they’d let it go by. But weeks passed and I got no kick-back, so I was going to tell them.

Chris: Then why didn’t you tell them?

Keller: It was too late. The paper, it was all over the front page, twenty-one went down, it was too late. They came with handcuffs into the shop, what could I do? [He sits on bench.] Chris … Chris, I did it for you, it was a chance and I took it for you. I’m sixty-one years old, when would I have another chance to make something for you? Sixty-one years old you don’t get another chance, do ya?

Chris: You even knew they wouldn’t hold up in the air.

Keller: I didn’t say that.

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Chris: But you were going to warn them not to use them –

Keller: But that don’t mean –

Chris: It means you knew they’d crash.

Keller: It don’t mean that.

Chris: Then you thought they’d crash.

Keller: I was afraid maybe –

Chris: You were afraid maybe! God in heaven, what kind of man are you? Kids were hanging in the air by those heads. You knew that!

Keller: For you, a business for you!

Chris [with burning fury]: For me! Where do you live, where have you come from? For me! – I was dying every day and you were killing my boys and you did it for me? What the hell do you think I was thinking of, the goddam business? Is that as far as your mind can see, the business? What is that, the world – the business? What the hell do you mean, you did it for me? Don’t you have a country? Don’t you live in the world? What the hell are you? You’re not even an animal, no animal kills his own, what are you? What must I do to you? I ought to tear the tongue out of your mouth, what must I do? [With his fist he pounds down upon his father’s shoulder. He stumbles away, covering his face as he weeps.] What must I do, Jesus God, what must I do?

Keller: Chris … My Chris …

CURTAIN

[from Act 2 ]

How does Miller make this such a powerfully dramatic ending to Act 2?

2 How do you think the portrayal of the two couples – Sue and Jim Bayliss and Frank and Lydia Lubey – contributes to the power of Miller’s play?

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J. B. PRIESTLEY: An Inspector Calls



Birling [somewhat impatiently ]: Look – there’s nothing mysterious –


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Inspector: They might. But after all it’s better to ask for the earth than to take it.

[from Act 1]

In what ways does Priestley make this such a dramatic and significant moment in the play?

4 Explore the ways in which Priestley vividly depicts the conflict between Mrs Birling and Sheila in two moments in the play.


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WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE: The Merchant of Venice



Antonio: Is that anything now?

Bassanio: Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff: you shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you have them they are not worth the search.

Antonio: Well; tell me now what lady is the sameTo whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, That you to-day promis’d to tell me of?

Bassanio: ’Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, How much I have disabled mine estate By something showing a more swelling port Than my faint means would grant continuance; Nor do I now make moan to be abridg’d From such a noble rate; but my chief care Is to come fairly off from the great debts Wherein my time, something too prodigal, Hath left me gag’d. To you, Antonio, I owe the most, in money and in love; And from your love I have a warranty To unburden all my plots and purposes How to get clear of all the debts I owe.

Antonio: I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it;And if it stand, as you yourself still do, Within the eye of honour, be assur’d My purse, my person, my extremest means, Lie all unlock’d to your occasions.

Bassanio: In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft,I shot his fellow of the self-same flight The self-same way, with more advised watch, To find the other forth; and by adventuring both I oft found both. I urge this childhood proof, Because what follows is pure innocence. I owe you much; and, like a wilful youth, That which I owe is lost; but if you please To shoot another arrow that self way Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, As I will watch the aim, or to find both, Or bring your latter hazard back again And thankfully rest debtor for the first.

Antonio: You know me well, and herein spend but timeTo wind about my love with circumstance; And out of doubt you do me now more wrong In making question of my uttermost Than if you had made waste of all I have. Then do but say to me what I should do That in your knowledge may by me be done, And I am prest unto it; therefore, speak.

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Bassanio: In Belmont is a lady richly left,And she is fair and, fairer than that word, Of wondrous virtues. Sometimes from her eyes I did receive fair speechless messages. Her name is Portia – nothing undervalu’d To Cato’s daughter, Brutus’ Portia. Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth; For the four winds blow in from every coast Renowned suitors, and her sunny locks Hang on her temples like a golden fleece, Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos’ strond, And many Jasons come in quest of her. O my Antonio, had I but the means To hold a rival place with one of them, I have a mind presages me such thrift That I should questionless be fortunate.

Antonio: Thou know’st that all my fortunes are at sea;Neither have I money nor commodity To raise a present sum; therefore go forth, Try what my credit can in Venice do; That shall be rack’d, even to the uttermost, To furnish thee to Belmont to fair Portia. Go presently inquire, and so will I, Where money is; and I no question make To have it of my trust or for my sake. [Exeunt.

[from Act 1 Scene 1 ]

How does Shakespeare create vivid impressions of Bassanio and his friendship with Antonio at this moment in the play?

6 What does Shakespeare’s writing make you feel about Jessica and Lorenzo?

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WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE: A Midsummer Night’s Dream



Oberon: I wonder if Titania be awak’d;Then, what it was that next came in her eye, Which she must dote on in extremity.

Enter PUCK.

Here comes my messenger. How now, mad spirit! What night-rule now about this haunted grove?

Puck: My mistress with a monster is in love. Near to her close and consecrated bower, While she was in her dull and sleeping hour, A crew of patches, rude mechanicals, That work for bread upon Athenian stalls, Were met together to rehearse a play Intended for great Theseus’ nuptial day. The shallowest thickskin of that barren sort, Who Pyramus presented, in their sport Forsook his scene and ent’red in a brake; When I did him at this advantage take, An ass’s nole I fixed on his head. Anon his Thisby must be answered, And forth my mimic comes. When they him spy, As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye, Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort, Rising and cawing at the gun’s report, Sever themselves and madly sweep the sky, So at his sight away his fellows fly; And at our stamp here, o’er and o’er one falls; He murder cries, and help from Athens calls. Their sense thus weak, lost with their fears thus strong, Made senseless things begin to do them wrong, For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch; Some sleeves, some hats, from yielders all things catch. I led them on in this distracted fear, And left sweet Pyramus translated there; When in that moment, so it came to pass, Titania wak’d, and straightway lov’d an ass.

Oberon: This falls out better than I could devise. But hast thou yet latch’d the Athenian’s eyes With the love-juice, as I did bid thee do?

Puck: I took him sleeping – that is finish’d too – And the Athenian woman by his side; That, when he wak’d, of force she must be ey’d.

Enter DEMETRIUS and HERMIA.

Oberon: Stand close; this is the same Athenian.

Puck: This is the woman, but not this the man.

Demetrius: O, why rebuke you him that loves you so?Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.

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Hermia: Now I but chide, but I should use thee worse,For thou, I fear, hast given me cause to curse. If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep, Being o’er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep, And kill me too. The sun was not so true unto the day As he to me. Would he have stolen away From sleeping Hermia? I’ll believe as soon This whole earth may be bor’d, and that the moon May through the centre creep and so displease Her brother’s noontide with th’ Antipodes. It cannot be but thou hast murd’red him; So should a murderer look – so dead, so grim.

Demetrius: So should the murdered look; and so should I,Pierc’d through the heart with your stern cruelty; Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as clear, As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere.

Hermia: What’s this to my Lysander? Where is he?Ah, good Demetrius, wilt thou give him me?

Demetrius: I had rather give his carcass to my hounds.


How does Shakespeare make this such a dramatic moment in the play?

8 To what extent do you think that Shakespeare portrays Hermia and Helena as victims?

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WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE: The Tempest



Prospero: Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himselfUpon thy wicked dam, come forth!

Enter CALIBAN.

Caliban: As wicked dew as e’er my mother brush’dWith raven’s feather from unwholesome fen Drop on you both! A south-west blow on ye And blister you all o’er!

Prospero: For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps,Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins Shall, for that vast of night that they may work, All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch’d As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging Than bees that made ’em.

Caliban: I must eat my dinner.This island’s mine, by Sycorax my mother, Which thou tak’st from me. When thou cam’st first, Thou strok’st me and made much of me, wouldst give me Water with berries in’t, and teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night; and then I lov’d thee, And show’d thee all the qualities o’ th’ isle, The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile. Curs’d be I that did so! All the charms Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you! For I am all the subjects that you have, Which first was mine own king; and here you sty me In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me The rest o’ th’ island.

Prospero: Thou most lying slave,Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have us’d thee, Filth as thou art, with human care, and lodg’d thee In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate The honour of my child.

Caliban: O ho, O ho! Would’t had been done.Thou didst prevent me; I had peopl’d else This isle with Calibans.

Miranda: Abhorred slave,Which any print of goodness wilt not take, Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee, Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour One thing or other. When thou didst not, savage, Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like A thing most brutish, I endow’d thy purposes With words that made them known. But thy vile race,

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Though thou didst learn, had that in’t which good natures Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou Deservedly confin’d into this rock, who hadst Deserv’d more than a prison.

Caliban: You taught me language, and my profit on’tIs, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you For learning me your language!

Prospero: Hag-seed, hence!Fetch us in fuel. And be quick, thou’rt best, To answer other business. Shrug’st thou, malice? If thou neglect’st, or dost unwillingly What I command, I’ll rack thee with old cramps, Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar, That beasts shall tremble at thy din.

Caliban: No, pray thee.[Aside ] I must obey. His art is of such pow’r, It would control my dam’s god, Setebos, And make a vassal of him.

Prospero: So, slave; hence!

[Exit CALIBAN


To what extent does Shakespeare make it possible for you to feel sympathy for Caliban at this moment in the play?

10 ‘So perfect and so peerless.’ How far does Shakespeare make you agree with this view of Miranda?

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OSCAR WILDE: The Importance of Being Earnest



Gwendolen: Ah! that accounts for it. And now that I think of it I have never heard any man mention his brother. The subject seems distasteful to most men. Cecily, you have lifted a load from my mind. I was growing almost anxious. It would have been terrible if any cloud had come across a friendship like ours, would it not? Of course you are quite, quite sure that it is not Mr Ernest Worthing who is your guardian?

Cecily: Quite sure. [A pause.] In fact, I am going to be his.

Gwendolen [inquiringly]: I beg your pardon?

Cecily [rather shy and confidingly]: Dearest Gwendolen, there is no reason why I should make a secret of it to you. Our little county newspaper is sure to chronicle the fact next week. Mr Ernest Worthing and I are engaged to be married.

Gwendolen [quite politely, rising]: My darling Cecily, I think there must be some slight error. Mr Ernest Worthing is engaged to me. The announcement will appear in the Morning Post on Saturday at the latest.

Cecily [very politely, rising]: I am afraid you must be under some misconception. Ernest proposed to me exactly ten minutes ago. [Shows diary.]

Gwendolen [examines diary through her lorgnette carefully ]: It is very curious, for he asked me to be his wife yesterday afternoon at 5.30. If you would care to verify the incident, pray do so. [Produces diary of her own.] I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read in the train. I am so sorry, dear Cecily, if it is any disappointment to you, but I am afraid I have the prior claim.

Cecily: It would distress me more than I can tell you, dear Gwendolen, if it caused you any mental or physical anguish, but I feel bound to point out that since Ernest proposed to you he clearly has changed his mind.

Gwendolen [meditatively ]: If the poor fellow has been entrapped into any foolish promise I shall consider it my duty to rescue him at once, and with a firm hand.

Cecily [thoughtfully and sadly]: Whatever unfortunate entanglement my dear boy may have got into, I will never reproach him with it after we are married.

Gwendolen: Do you allude to me, Miss Cardew, as an entanglement? You are presumptuous. On an occasion of this kind it becomes more than a moral duty to speak one’s mind. It becomes a pleasure.

Cecily: Do you suggest, Miss Fairfax, that I entrapped Ernest into an engagement? How dare you? This is no time for wearing the shallow mask of manners. When I see a spade I call it a spade.

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Gwendolen [satirically]: I am glad to say that I have never seen a spade. It is obvious that our social spheres have been widely different.

[Enter MERRIMAN, followed by the footman. He carries a salver, table cloth, and plate stand. CECILY is about to retort. The presence of the servants exercises a restraining influence, under which both girls chafe.]

Merriman: Shall I lay tea here as usual, Miss?

Cecily [sternly, in a calm voice]: Yes, as usual. [MERRIMAN begins to clear table and lay cloth. A long pause. CECILY and GWENDOLEN glare at each other.]

Gwendolen: Are there many interesting walks in the vicinity, Miss Cardew?

Cecily: Oh! yes! a great many. From the top of one of the hills quite close one can see five counties.

Gwendolen: Five counties! I don’t think I should like that; I hate crowds.

Cecily: [sweetly]: I suppose that is why you live in town? [GWENDOLEN bites her lip, and beats her foot nervously with her parasol.]

Gwendolen [looking around ]: Quite a well-kept garden this is, Miss Cardew.

Cecily: So glad you like it, Miss Fairfax.

Gwendolen: I had no idea there were any flowers in the country.

Cecily: Oh, flowers are as common here, Miss Fairfax, as people are in London.

Gwendolen: Personally I cannot understand how anybody manages to exist in the country, if anybody who is anybody does. The country always bores me to death.

Cecily: Ah! This is what the newspapers call agricultural depression, is it not? I believe the aristocracy are suffering very much from it just at present. It is almost an epidemic amongst them, I have been told. May I offer you some tea, Miss Fairfax?

Gwendolen [with elaborate politeness]: Thank you. [Aside.] Detestable girl! But I require tea!

[from Act 2 ]

How does Wilde make this conversation between Gwendolen and Cecily so entertaining at this moment in the play?

12 Explore the ways in which Wilde amusingly portrays the relationship between Jack and Algernon.

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