Lerninhalte in Englisch

Text 2

West Coast

In 1930, Elise Lester and her husband Herbie, a war veteran, have arrived at the coast of Southern California, about to embark on a boat to take them to the small San Miguel Island off the West Coast.

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She was thirty-eight years on this earth and until three weeks ago she'd never
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been west of the Hudson River - she'd been to the Berkshires, Boston and
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Newport as a girl, and Montreux and Paris too, but west? Never. The West
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was a place she knew only from books, from Francis Parkman and Mark
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Twain and Willa Cather, a huge dun expanse of the map striated with
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mountains and flecked with plains and deserts, home to cactus, rattlesnakes,
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red Indians, cowboys, bucking broncos, buckaroos – and what else?
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Prospectors. Oilmen. Motion-picture stars. She thought of Chaplin eating his
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own shoe, of Laurel and Hardy selling Christmas trees on a street lined with
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palms. The West. Terra incognita. Terra insolita. And now here she was, all
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the way out on the west coast of the U.S.A. and waiting for the cattle boat that
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would take her beyond the coast altogether, to the last scrap of land the
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continent had to offer, an island tossed out in the ocean like an afterthought.
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Thirty-eight years. And wasn't life the strangest thing?
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It was early morning, the end of March, 1930. She watched the sun rise
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out of the mountains down the shoreline to her left, and that was strange too,
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because all her life she'd known it to emerge from the waters of Long Island
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Sound, a quivering yellow disk like the separated yolk of an egg, the waves
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running away to the horizon and shifting from black to gray and finally to the
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clean undiluted blue of the sky above – if the sun was shining, that is. And half
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the time it wasn't. Half the time it was overcast, drizzling, raining – or sleeting.
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There was no sleet here, though, and never would be, not until the next Ice
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Age came along, anyway. Just the sun, which in that moment swelled to a
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perfect blazing circle and slipped free of the clutch of the mountains to draw
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long tapering shadows out of every vertical thing, boats at anchor, the pilings
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of the pier, the trees along the bluff – some of which, and she just noticed this
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now, were palms, imagine that, palms.
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The boat – Herbie had told her to watch for it downshore to the east while
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he ran off in his excitable trot to see to a dozen last-minute things – was called
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the Vaquero, and it was used by the family on one of the other islands to ferry
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cattle across the channel to market. She looked off to sea, sniffed at the
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breeze. The sun rose higher. People moved around her on the shifting planks
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of the pier, going about their business, maritime business, and no one gave
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her a second glance. Herbie had left her there to keep an eye on their
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baggage – a glancing kiss, a bolt from his eyes, I'll be right back - but she
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didn't feel at all threatened or even anxious. If there were any thieves on the
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pier that morning, she didn't see them.
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When finally the boat did appear, it was a distant black pinpoint emerging
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from the shadow of the mountains to glint sporadically as it rocked into the
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rising flood of sunlight. She put a hand up to shield her eyes and held it there
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the whole while as the boat grew bigger and the smell – urine, feces, the close
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festering odor of glands and secretions and hide, cowhide – came rushing to
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her on the breeze. Then the boat was there, tethered and gently knocking
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against the pilings, and a raw-faced man in blue jeans and a wide-brimmed hat
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came scrambling up the ladder and onto the pier. He was short, shorter than
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she was, anyway, and so slim and agile it took her a minute to realize he
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wasn't as young as he'd first appeared, wasn't young at all. There were
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creases round his eyes, hackles of stiff white hair tracing the underside of his
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jaw where he'd been indifferently shaved, and she wondered about that,
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shaving at sea, with the deck pitching under you and the razor – even a safety
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razor – a hazard all its own.
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He stood there a moment as if to get his bearings, then shot her a glance,
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his eyes dropping from her face to the tumble of suitcases, shoulder bags,
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trunks, boxes and sacks of provisions scattered round her, before lifting again
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to settle on hers. Then he was coming forward, drumming across the planks
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with a brisk chop of his legs – boots, he was wearing cowboy boots – and
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giving her a smile so wide she could make out the cracked gray remnants of
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his molars. "So you must be the new bride," he said, tipping his hat, and then
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he gave his name, which she forgot in the instant: new bride.
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Yes, she was a new bride, twenty years after she'd made her debut at
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Delmonico's with a full orchestra to provide entertainment and a young tenor
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by the name of Enrico Caruso serenading the glowing cluster of debutantes
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and their families, all the world laid out before her, and fifteen years – fifteen at
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least - since she'd given up all hope. New bride. She almost blushed.
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"Yes," she said, bending forward to nod in assent. "I'm Herbie's wife,
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Elizabeth. Or Elise. Call me Elise."
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There was a moment of silence, the stink of the absent cattle – they'd
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been off-loaded the day before in Oxnard, she would learn – rising to them
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from the boat lurching in the swell below. There were gulls, of course.
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Pelicans. People up and down the pier bending to one task or another.


From: T. C. Boyle, San Miguel, 2012.

Text comprehension and analysis

Complete the following tasks using your own words as far as is appropriate. Quote correctly.

35%
1.

Outline what the text reveals about Elise's past and her present situation.

(15%)
2.

Examine Elise's state of mind, taking into account narrative perspective and three different examples of how language is used.

(20%)

Composition

Choose one of the following topics and write a coherent text laying out your ideas.

20%
1.

Leave your home town – become a freer person.

Discuss.

2.

"Reading is an exercise in empathy; an exercise in walking in someone else's shoes for a while."
(Malorie Blackman, *1962, British author)

Comment on this statement.

3.

Describe briefly, analyse and comment on the cartoon.

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