2. 外语
  3. At the Hemingway Memorial, just past the Sun Valley Resort, it is quiet. In the background, mountains rise up. There is a curved

At the Hemingway Memorial, just past the Sun Valley Resort, it is quiet. In the background, mountains rise up. There is a curved

admin2017-04-20  20
问题     At the Hemingway Memorial, just past the Sun Valley Resort, it is quiet. In the background, mountains rise up. There is a curved stone bench, like a tiny amphitheater facing the memorial. I sit for a while and watch the stream swirl around a corner, then look up at Hemingway’s image on the column—old, bearded and balding. My mind runs around this strange, complicated person who seemed in so many ways to embody the American Dream. He was a self-made man, a self-made writer, and a self-made celebrity. He was our prodigal son, and we watched him grow up all over the world, but knew that his heart was always here, at home.
    As the afternoon light fades, I move to a nearby campground and cook dinner. When night comes, the moon is bright and the Milky Way is a wide, pale stripe across the sky. In the north, the big dipper is sinking behind a hill. Next to the campground is Trail Creek, a stream filled with rocks that the water rushes over. In the dark, I go down to the stream, sit next to it and let the bubbling stir my thoughts. Moonlight glints off the water. When it gets too cold, I go back to camp to sleep for the night. But on my way, I hear a rustle and shine my light where the sound came from. A fox runs past me and its eyes shine in the light. He disappears into the bushes. I stand there. A few seconds later he comes back. The fox stops tentatively, then walks toward me, eyes glowing. He stops again and spins around in three nervous circles. His fur looks gray and black. He is followed by a huge tail. The fox looks at me again and we both stand still for a minute, engaged in some kind of mutual regard. Then he turns into the bushes and disappears.
    It was his favorite shotgun, and his third try. Things had gone badly for Ernest in his marriage, in his writing and in his mind. He had three big books unfinished, perhaps unfinishable: Islands in the Stream, The Garden of Eden, and True at First Light. Of these, biographer Michael Reynolds said, "They were to be his legacy, his most complex undertaking. It was like working a crossword puzzle in three dimensions. All he needed was time, which, unfortunately, was no longer on his side."
    His account of the Bullfights in Spain, The Dangerous Summer, was more or less finished, as was his memoir of Paris, A Moveable Feast. But they were not published because Hemingway remained unhappy with them. In his last two years at Ketchum, he worked intermittently on them, sometimes making progress, sometimes not. But things weren’t right in Ernest’s head. Two decades after he first came to Ketchum, he looked like he had aged four decades. At 61, he was a shadow of the man who arrived at Sun Valley with Martha in 1939 to write For Whom the Bell Tolls and with Mary in 1947 to work on Islands in the Stream. He threatened to kill himself, but Mary talked him out of it. A few days later, he tried again, but was stopped by a friend. The next day he flew to the Mayo clinic for his second course of electroshock. Two months later, he was released from the clinic and drove back to Ketchum with Mary. They arrived on June 30th. Two days later, Ernest Hemingway walked downstairs, put his favorite gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. The shot must have rung out through the valley.
    At Trail Creek Campground, I wake to the sound of water rushing over rocks. It’s cold and my hands are stiff. But the sky is clear and I watch as the sun drips down the hills like honey. I eat some breakfast, make a cup of coffee, and pack up to leave. On the way out, I stop again at the Hemingway Memorial. On the ground I notice small, wet, paw prints. They had come out of the stream by the memorial, wind through the open area by the bench and go up the path from where I just came. I sit for a while and watch the water swirl in the stream. It is so clear you can see to the bottom. In the distance is the rush of Trail Creek, and just above is the profile of Ernest Hemingway framed against, "the high blue windless sky." His head is turned away from where I sit, towards the mountains. The inscription of eulogy Hemingway wrote for another friend—talks about how he loved the trees and hills and sky. It ends: "Now he will be part of them forever. "It is a beautiful place to die.  
The writer did all of the following EXCEPT to________.
选项 A、meditate on Hemingway’s life story
B、erect a tent on the bank of a stream
C、cook a meal in a campground
D、have a cup of coffee on the cold day
答案B
解析 细节题。首段第四、五句指出，我坐了一会儿，看着在转角处打旋的流水，然后抬头望着柱子上的海明威像——老态龙钟、胡子拉碴、头发稀少。脑子里想着这个奇特而复杂的人，他似乎在许多方面体现了美国梦。故[A]是作者做过的事情；第二段首句指出，当傍晚的光线暗淡下去，我来到附近的一处野营地做晚餐。故[C]也是作者做过的事情之一；末段第二句和第四句指出，天气很冷，我的手都冻僵了……我吃了点早餐，喝了杯咖啡，收拾离去。故[D]也是作者做过的事情；第二段第七句指出，冷极了的时候，我回到帐篷睡觉过夜。这里没有提到作者自己支帐篷，故[B]为答案。
转载请注明原文地址:https://jikaoti.com/ti/GteMFFFM
0

专业英语八级

相关试题推荐
随机试题
最新回复(0)