2. 考研
  3. I expect this course to open my eyes to story material, to unleash my too dormant imagination, to develop that quality utterly l

I expect this course to open my eyes to story material, to unleash my too dormant imagination, to develop that quality utterly l

admin2012-01-05  35
问题    I expect this course to open my eyes to story material, to unleash my too dormant imagination, to develop that quality utterly lacking in my nature—a sense of form. I do not expect to acquire much technique. I expect to be able to seize upon the significant, reject the trivial. I hope to acquire a greater love for humanity in all its forms.
   I have long wondered just what my strength was as a writer. I am often filled with tremendous enthusiasm for a subject, yet my writing about it will seem a sorry attempt. Above all, I possess a driving sincerity—that prime virtue of any creative worker. I write only what I believe to be the absolute truth—even if I must ruin the theme in so doing. In this respect I feel far superior to those glib people in my classes who often garner better grades than I do. They are so often pitiful frauds-artificial-insincere. They have a line that works. They do not write from the depths of their hearts. Nothing of theirs was ever horn of pain. Many an incoherent yet sincere piece of writing has outlived the polished product.
   I write only about people and things that I know thoroughly. Perhaps I have become a mere reporter, not a writer/Yet I feel that this is all my present abilities permit. I will open my eyes in my youth and store this raw, living material. Age may bring the fire that molds experience into artistry.
   I have a genuine love of nature. It is not the least bit affected, but an integral and powerful part of my life. I know that Cooper is a fraud—that he doesn’t give a true sense of the sublimity of American scenery. I know that Muir and Thoreau and Burroughs speak the truth. I can sense the moods of nature almost instinctively. Ever since I could walk, I have spent as much time as I could in the open. A perception of nature—no matter how delicate, how subtle, how evanescent—remains with me forever.
   I am influenced too much, perhaps, by natural objects. I seem bound by the very room I’m in. I’ve associated so long with prosaic people that I’ve dwarfed myself spiritually. When I get alone under an open sky where man isn’t too evident—then I’m tremendously exalted and a thousand vivid ideas and sweet visions flood my consciousness.
   I think that I possess story material in abundance. I have had an unusual upbringing. I was let alone, thank God ! My mother insisted upon two things—that I strive for perfection in whatever I did and that I always try to be a gentleman. I played with Italians, with Russians, Poles, and the "sissies" on Michigan avenue. I was carefully watched, yet allowed to follow my own inclinations. I have seen a good deal of life that would never have been revealed to an older person. Up to the time I came to college then I had seen humanity in diverse forms. Now I’m cramped and unhappy. I don’t feel that these idiotic adolescents are worth writing about. In the summer, I turn animal and work for a few weeks in a factory. Then I’m happy.
   My literary achievements have been insignificant. At fourteen, I made a speech which was translated into twenty-six languages and used as Red Cross propaganda. When I was younger, it seemed that everything I wrote was eminently successful. I always won a prize when I entered an es- say contest. In college, I’ve been able to get only one "A" in four rhetoric courses. I feel this keenly. If I can’t write, what can I do? I wonder.
   When I was a freshman, I told Carlton Wells that I knew I could write whether he thought so or not. On my next theme he wrote "You can Write!" How I have cherished that praise!
   It is bad form to talk about grades. I know. If I don’t get an "A" in this course, it wouldn’t be because I haven’t tried. I’ve made a slow start. I’m going to spend Christmas vacation writing. A "B" symbolizes defeat to me. I’ve been beaten too often.    I do wish that we were allowed to keep our stories until we felt that we had worked them into the best possible form.
   I do not have the divine urge to write. There seems to be something surging within, —a profound undercurrent of emotion. Yet there is none of that fertility of creation which distinguishes the real writer.
   Nevertheless, I have faith in myself. I’m either going to be a good writer or a poor fool.
Does the author think of himself as a talented writer? Why or why not?
选项
答案Yes, the author does think so, because he says "Nevertheless, I have faith...a good writer or a poor fool" in the end to show his determination and his confidence. He has his own perspective of writing，and he believes in it, stick to it, in hope that his unique way of writing about the truth can someday become a truth in the circle of writing，and this hope is clearly a firm belief.
解析 (从第五段到文章结束，作者介绍自己在写作方面有丰富的素材，学生时代取得了辉煌的成就，内心有着强烈的写作愿望，由此可知作者认为自己能成为一名优秀的作家。文章最后一段画龙点睛，表达了他成为出色作家的自信与信念。)
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