Questões de Inglês - Reading/Writing - Nonfiction book

TEXT 1

Read the following excerpt from the book The Emperor of All Maladies and answer the questions which follow.

 

On the morning of May 19, 2004, Carla Reed, a thirty-year-old kindergarten teacher from Ipswich, Massachusetts, a mother of three young children, woke up in bed with a headache. “Not just any headache,” she would recall later, “but a sort of numbness in my head. The kind of numbness that instantly tells you that something is terribly wrong.”

Something had been terribly wrong for nearly a month. Late in April, Carla had discovered a few bruises on her back. They had suddenly appeared one morning, like strange stigmata, then grown and vanished over the next month, leaving large map-shaped marks on her back. Almost indiscernibly, her gums had begun to turn white. By early May, Carla, a vivacious, energetic woman accustomed to spending hours in the classroom chasing down five- and six-year-olds, could barely walk up a flight of stairs. Some mornings, exhausted and unable to stand up, she crawled down the hallways of her house on all fours to get from one room to another. She slept fitfully for twelve or fourteen hours a day, then woke up feeling so overwhelmingly tired that she needed to haul herself back to the couch again to sleep.

Carla and her husband saw a general physician and a nurse twice during those four weeks, but she returned each time with no tests and without a diagnosis. Ghostly pains appeared and disappeared in her bones. The doctor fumbled about for some explanation. Perhaps it was a migraine, she suggested, and asked Carla to try some aspirin. The aspirin simply worsened the bleeding in Carla’s white gums.

Outgoing, gregarious, and ebullient, Carla was more puzzled than worried about her waxing and waning illness. She had never been seriously ill in her life. The hospital was an abstract place for her; she had never met or consulted a medical specialist, let alone an oncologist. She imagined and concocted various causes to explain her symptoms—overwork, depression, dyspepsia, neuroses, insomnia. But in the end, something visceral arose inside her—a seventh sense—that told Carla something acute and catastrophic was brewing within her body.

On the afternoon of May 19, Carla dropped her three children with a neighbor and drove herself back to the clinic, demanding to have some blood tests. Her doctor ordered a routine test to check her blood counts. As the technician drew a tube of blood from her vein, he looked closely at the blood’s color, obviously intrigued. Watery, pale, and dilute, the liquid that welled out of Carla’s veins hardly resembled blood.

Carla waited the rest of the day without any news. At a fish market the next morning, she received a call.

“We need to draw some blood again,” the nurse from the clinic said.

“When should I come?” Carla asked, planning her hectic day. She remembers looking up at the clock on the wall. A half-pound steak of salmon was warming in her shopping basket, threatening to spoil if she left it out too long.

In the end, commonplace particulars make up Carla’s memories of illness: the clock, the car pool, the children, a tube of pale blood, a missed shower, the fish in the sun, the tightening tone of a voice on the phone. Carla cannot recall much of what the nurse said, only a general sense of urgency. “Come now,” she thinks the nurse said. “Come now.”

Excerpted from: Siddhartha Mukherjee, M.D. The Emperor of All Maladies, Scribner 2010

About Carla, it is correct to infer that in 2004 she

TEXT 1

Read the following excerpt from the book The Emperor of All Maladies and answer the questions which follow.

 

On the morning of May 19, 2004, Carla Reed, a thirty-year-old kindergarten teacher from Ipswich, Massachusetts, a mother of three young children, woke up in bed with a headache. “Not just any headache,” she would recall later, “but a sort of numbness in my head. The kind of numbness that instantly tells you that something is terribly wrong.”

Something had been terribly wrong for nearly a month. Late in April, Carla had discovered a few bruises on her back. They had suddenly appeared one morning, like strange stigmata, then grown and vanished over the next month, leaving large map-shaped marks on her back. Almost indiscernibly, her gums had begun to turn white. By early May, Carla, a vivacious, energetic woman accustomed to spending hours in the classroom chasing down five- and six-year-olds, could barely walk up a flight of stairs. Some mornings, exhausted and unable to stand up, she crawled down the hallways of her house on all fours to get from one room to another. She slept fitfully for twelve or fourteen hours a day, then woke up feeling so overwhelmingly tired that she needed to haul herself back to the couch again to sleep.

Carla and her husband saw a general physician and a nurse twice during those four weeks, but she returned each time with no tests and without a diagnosis. Ghostly pains appeared and disappeared in her bones. The doctor fumbled about for some explanation. Perhaps it was a migraine, she suggested, and asked Carla to try some aspirin. The aspirin simply worsened the bleeding in Carla’s white gums.

Outgoing, gregarious, and ebullient, Carla was more puzzled than worried about her waxing and waning illness. She had never been seriously ill in her life. The hospital was an abstract place for her; she had never met or consulted a medical specialist, let alone an oncologist. She imagined and concocted various causes to explain her symptoms—overwork, depression, dyspepsia, neuroses, insomnia. But in the end, something visceral arose inside her—a seventh sense—that told Carla something acute and catastrophic was brewing within her body.

On the afternoon of May 19, Carla dropped her three children with a neighbor and drove herself back to the clinic, demanding to have some blood tests. Her doctor ordered a routine test to check her blood counts. As the technician drew a tube of blood from her vein, he looked closely at the blood’s color, obviously intrigued. Watery, pale, and dilute, the liquid that welled out of Carla’s veins hardly resembled blood.

Carla waited the rest of the day without any news. At a fish market the next morning, she received a call.

“We need to draw some blood again,” the nurse from the clinic said.

“When should I come?” Carla asked, planning her hectic day. She remembers looking up at the clock on the wall. A half-pound steak of salmon was warming in her shopping basket, threatening to spoil if she left it out too long.

In the end, commonplace particulars make up Carla’s memories of illness: the clock, the car pool, the children, a tube of pale blood, a missed shower, the fish in the sun, the tightening tone of a voice on the phone. Carla cannot recall much of what the nurse said, only a general sense of urgency. “Come now,” she thinks the nurse said. “Come now.”

Excerpted from: Siddhartha Mukherjee, M.D. The Emperor of All Maladies, Scribner 2010

The adverb barely in the phrase “could barely walk up a flight of stairs” means the same thing as

O texto a seguir relata a história do pão.

 

Our Daily Bread

 

[1] Bread is the oldest food known to mankind. The trade of the baker is one of the oldest crafts in the world.

 

[2] Loaves and rolls have been found in ancient Egyptian tombs. In the British Museum’s Egyptian galleries you can see actual loaves which were made and baked over 5,000 years ago.

 

[3] Bread is mentioned in the Bible many times. In Old Testament times, all the evidence points to the fact that bread-making, preparing the grain, making the bread and baking it, was the women’s work.

 

[4] Nowadays, bread is perhaps the most important item in our diet. It provides us with more energy value, more protein, more iron and more vitamin B1 than any other basic food.

 

[5] So, the next time you are about to bite into some fresh bread, remember you have a slice of history in your hand. 

Puzzles Coquetel. Coletânea Crosswords nº8. Word Puzzles Federation. Slightly modified

 

Em que parágrafo fica explícita que a função de produzir o pão, mencionada no Velho Testamento, era uma tarefa feminina?

    It has been almost a generation since Sebastião
Salgado first published Exodus in 2000, but the story it
tells, of fraught human movement around the globe, has
changed little in all these years. The push and pull factors
[5] may shift, the nexus of conflict relocates from Rwanda to
Syria, but the people who leave their homes tell the same
tale: deprivation, hardship, and glimmers of hope, plotted
along a journey of great psychological, as well as physical,
toil.
[10]     Salgado spent six years with migrant peoples,
visiting various countries all over the world to document
displacement on the road, in camps, and in overcrowded
city slums where new arrivals often end up. His images
feature those who know where they are going and those
[15] who are simply in flight, relieved to be alive. The faces he
meets present dignity and compassion in the most bitter of
circumstances, but also the many ravaged marks of
violence, hatred, and greed.
    With his particular eye for detail and motion,
[20] Salgado captures the heart-stopping moments of migratory
movement, as much as the mass flux. There are laden
trucks, crowded boats, and camps stretched out to a
clouded horizon, and then there is the small, bandaged leg;
the fingerprint on a page; the interview with a border
[25] guard. Insisting on the scale of the migrant phenomenon,
Salgado also asserts, with characteristic humanism, the
personal story within the overwhelming numbers. Against
the indistinct faces of televised footage or the crowds
caught beneath a newspaper headline, what we find here
[30] are portraits of individual identities, even in the abyss of a
lost land, home, and, often, loved ones.

Humanity on the move: Sebastião Salgado’s searing account of exiles, migrants, and refugees. Internet: www.taschen.com (adapted).

 

Considering the text on Exodus and the photograph taken by Salgado, of refugee camp in Rwanda, judge the following item.

Sebastião Salgado’s Exodus contrasts two aspects of mass migration phenomena: the large scale consequences of displacement and the details of individuals.

1984 (excerpt)

 

    'Is it your opinion, Winston, that the past has real existence?’ [...] O'Brien smiled faintly. ‘I will put it more precisely. Does the past exist concretely, in space? Is there somewhere or other a place, a world of solid objects, where the past is still happening?

    'No.'
    'Then where does the past exist, if at all?'
    'In records. It is written down.'
    'In records. And –– ––?'
    'In the mind. In human memories.'
    'In memory. Very well, then. We, the Party, control all records, and we control all memories. Then we control the past, do we not?'

ORWELL. G. Nineteen Eighty-Four. New York: Signet Classics, 1977.

 

O romance 1984 descreve os perigos de um Estado totalitário.

 

A ideia evidenciada nessa passagem é que o controle do Estado se dá por meio do(a)

New Studies Link Cell Phone Radiation with Cancer  

Researchers call for greater caution, but skeptics say the evidence from rat studies is not convincing By Charles Schmidt

 

  Does cell phone radiation cause cancer? New studies show a correlation in lab rats, but the evidence may not resolve ongoing debates over causality or whether any effects arise in people. 

  The ionizing radiation given off by sources such as x-ray machines and the sun boosts cancer risk by shredding molecules in the body. But the nonionizing radio-frequency (RF) radiation that cell phones and other wireless devices emit has just one known biological effect: an ability to heat tissue by exciting its molecules. Still, evidence advanced by the studies shows prolonged exposure to even very low levels of RF radiation, perhaps by mechanisms other than heating that remain unknown, makes rats uniquely prone to a rare tumor called a schwannoma, which affects a type of neuron (or nerve cell) called a Schwann cell.

Disponı́vel em: . Acesso em: 29 mar. 2018.

 

Com base no texto, afirma-se que