hce_nthu
112年
英文
第 35 題
📖 題組：
We live in a superficial, media-driven culture that often seems uncomfortable with true depths of feeling. Indeed, it seems as if our culture has become increasingly intolerant of that acute sorrow, that intense mental anguish and deep remorse which may be defined as grief. We want to medicate such sorrow away. We want to divide it into recognizable stages so that grief can be labeled, tamed, and put behind us. But poets have always celebrated grief as one of the deepest human emotions. To grieve is to lament, to let sorrow inhabit one’s very being. Robert Frost liked to distinguish between grievances (complaints) and griefs (sorrows). He even suggested that grievances, which are propagandistic, should be restricted to prose, “leaving poetry free to go its way in tears.” Implicit in poetry is the notion that we are deepened by heartbreaks, that we are not so much diminished as enlarged by grief, by our refusal to vanish---to let others vanish---without leaving a verbal record. Poetry is a stubborn art. The poet is one who will not be reconciled, who is determined to leave trace in words, to transform oceanic depths of feeling into the faithful nuances of art. I was initiated into the poetry of grief---of raw, heroic, aboriginal grief---on a windy autumnal morning in late October 1968. I was eighteen years old. I knew I had found what I was unknowingly seeking on the day my freshman humanities teacher---a petite woman with an immense vocabulary, the only person I’d ever met who spoke in perfectly formed sentences---stood up in class and started talking about Achilles’s desperate response to the death of his friend Patroclus. I felt something obscure oping inside me, I recognized some unknown, some unassuaged rage of feeling, a frenzied internal sobbing, a delirium of grief. I looked out the window and saw the mad leaves swirling and falling everywhere. I was transported. Here is the passage in Richmond Lattimore’s translation. It is from Book 18 of The Iliad. Nestor’s son Antilochus has just given Achilles the message that his closest friend, his trusted ally and brother-in-arms, had been killed wearing Achilles’s own armor. Now enemies were fighting over Patroclus’s naked body: He spoke, and the black cloud of sorrow closed on Achilles. In both hands he caught up the grimy dust, and poured it over his head and face, and fouled his handsome countenance, and the black ashes were scattered over his immortal tunic. And he himself, mightily in his might, in the dust lay at length, and took and tore at his hair with his hands, and defiled it. My teacher must have gone on to talk about Achilles’s feelings of guilt and shame, his deep sense of responsibility over his friend’s death. This is a pivotal incident in The Iliad because it triggers Achilles’s reentry into battle and therefore assures the destruction of Troy. It’s the only way to account for his uncharacteristically savage revenge on Hector. But I couldn’t follow closely what she was saying because some part of my mind was stuck on the primal image of Achilles smearing his face with dirt and tearing out his hair. I recognized the image from somewhere…
We live in a superficial, media-driven culture that often seems uncomfortable with true depths of feeling. Indeed, it seems as if our culture has become increasingly intolerant of that acute sorrow, that intense mental anguish and deep remorse which may be defined as grief. We want to medicate such sorrow away. We want to divide it into recognizable stages so that grief can be labeled, tamed, and put behind us. But poets have always celebrated grief as one of the deepest human emotions. To grieve is to lament, to let sorrow inhabit one’s very being. Robert Frost liked to distinguish between grievances (complaints) and griefs (sorrows). He even suggested that grievances, which are propagandistic, should be restricted to prose, “leaving poetry free to go its way in tears.” Implicit in poetry is the notion that we are deepened by heartbreaks, that we are not so much diminished as enlarged by grief, by our refusal to vanish---to let others vanish---without leaving a verbal record. Poetry is a stubborn art. The poet is one who will not be reconciled, who is determined to leave trace in words, to transform oceanic depths of feeling into the faithful nuances of art. I was initiated into the poetry of grief---of raw, heroic, aboriginal grief---on a windy autumnal morning in late October 1968. I was eighteen years old. I knew I had found what I was unknowingly seeking on the day my freshman humanities teacher---a petite woman with an immense vocabulary, the only person I’d ever met who spoke in perfectly formed sentences---stood up in class and started talking about Achilles’s desperate response to the death of his friend Patroclus. I felt something obscure oping inside me, I recognized some unknown, some unassuaged rage of feeling, a frenzied internal sobbing, a delirium of grief. I looked out the window and saw the mad leaves swirling and falling everywhere. I was transported. Here is the passage in Richmond Lattimore’s translation. It is from Book 18 of The Iliad. Nestor’s son Antilochus has just given Achilles the message that his closest friend, his trusted ally and brother-in-arms, had been killed wearing Achilles’s own armor. Now enemies were fighting over Patroclus’s naked body: He spoke, and the black cloud of sorrow closed on Achilles. In both hands he caught up the grimy dust, and poured it over his head and face, and fouled his handsome countenance, and the black ashes were scattered over his immortal tunic. And he himself, mightily in his might, in the dust lay at length, and took and tore at his hair with his hands, and defiled it. My teacher must have gone on to talk about Achilles’s feelings of guilt and shame, his deep sense of responsibility over his friend’s death. This is a pivotal incident in The Iliad because it triggers Achilles’s reentry into battle and therefore assures the destruction of Troy. It’s the only way to account for his uncharacteristically savage revenge on Hector. But I couldn’t follow closely what she was saying because some part of my mind was stuck on the primal image of Achilles smearing his face with dirt and tearing out his hair. I recognized the image from somewhere…
Based upon the passage, which of the following statements does NOT agree with the author’s opinion of a media-driven culture?
- A A media-driven culture is skin-deep
- B In a media-driven culture, grief is something people want to put behind them
- C A media-driven culture often leads to an intolerant society
- D A media-driven culture often seems uncomfortable with true depths of feeling
- E A media-driven culture would not celebrate grief as one of the deepest human emotions.
思路引導 VIP
請回到文章第一段，找到「intolerant」這個單字所在的句子。仔細觀察作者在文中使用這個形容詞時，後方緊跟著的主詞或受詞是什麼？作者是在討論社會對「人」的不寬容，還是在討論對「某種特定心理狀態」的不寬容呢？
🤖
AI 詳解
AI 專屬家教
恭喜你精準捕捉到了作者的論點！這題考驗的是對文章細節的微觀辨析能力，你能正確選出 (C)，代表你沒有被選項中出現的關鍵字「不寬容」（intolerant）所迷惑，這展現了非常扎實的閱讀邏輯。
文本細節的精確辨析
在第一段中，作者提到現代媒體驅動的文化對於「劇烈的悲痛」（acute sorrow）越來越不寬容（intolerant），並希望透過藥物或標籤將其「馴化」並「拋在腦後」。然而，選項 (C) 將這種對特定情緒的排斥，泛化為「導致一個不寬容的社會」（leads to an intolerant society），這在邏輯上屬於過度推論。作者的重點在於我們文化對「情感深度」的逃避（如 A、B、D、E 所述），而非探討社會整體制度上的包容性。
▼ 還有更多解析內容