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Year 9 English Literature Reading an unseen text: exam preparation
The Task
In the Year 9 English Literature exam you get 45 minutes to write about the
opening to a novel which you may never have seen before.
You will be marked on the following:
o W2 – writing an appropriate text
o W3 – organising a text effectively
o W6 – using a full range of punctuation
o W8 – accurate spelling
o R2 – using quotations
o R3 – inferring layers of meaning
o R4 – analysing structural features
o R5 – analysing features of language
You are expected to write at least one, and no more than 2, sides of A4.
You should divide your time in to the following:
10 minutes – reading and planning (you will receive a planning sheet in the
exam)
30 minutes - writing
5 minutes – proofreading (you can bring in your ‘personalised proofreading
strategy’ for this
PLANNING SHEET
Write an analytical essay, exploring and evaluating how
________________ uses features of language and structure
One grim winter evening, when it had a kind of unrealness about London, with a fog
sleeping restlessly over the city and the lights showing in the blur as if is not London at all
but some strange place on another planet, Moses Aloetta hop on a number 46 bus at the
corner of Chepstow Road and Westbourne Grove to go to Waterloo to meet a fellar who
was coming from Trinidad on the boat-train. When Moses sit down and pay his fare he take
out a white handkerchief and blow his nose. The handkerchief turn black and Moses watch
it and curse the fog. He wasn’t in a good mood and the fog wasn’t doing anything to help
the situation. He had was to get up from a nice warm bed and dress and come out in this
nasty weather to go and meet a fellar that he didn’t even know. That was the hurtful part of
it – is not as if this fellar is his brother or cousin or even friend; he don’t know the man from
Adam. But he get a letter from a friend in Trinidad who say that this fellar coming by the SS
Hildebrand, and if he could please meet him at the station in London, and help him get
settled. The fellar name Henry Oliver, but the friend tell Moses not to worry that he describe
Moses to Henry, and all he have to do is to be in the station when the boat-train pull in and
this fellar Henry would find him. So for old time sake Moses find himself on the bus going to
Waterloo, vex with himself that his heart so soft that he always doing something for
somebody and nobody ever doing anything for him. Because it look to Moses that he hardly
have time to settle in the old Brit’n before all sorts of fellars start coming straight to his room in the
Water when they land up in London from the West Indies, saying that so and so tell them that
Moses is a good fellar to contact, that he would help them get place to stay and work to do. ‘Jesus
Christ,’ Moses tell Harris, a friend he have, ‘I never see thing so. I don’t know these people at all, yet
they coming to me as if I is some liaison officer, and I catching my arse as it is, how I could help them
out?’ And this sort of thing was happening at a time when the English people starting to make rab
about how too much West Indians coming to the country: this was a time, when any comer you turn,
is ten to one you bound to bounce up a spade. In fact, the boys all over London, it ain’t have a place
where you wouldn’t find them, and big discussion going on in Parliament about the situation, though
the old Brit’n too diplomatic to clamp down on the boys or do anything drastic like stop them from
coming to the Mother Country. But big headlines in the papers every day, and whatever the
newspaper and the radio say in this country, that is the people Bible. Like one time when
newspapers say that the West Indians think that the streets of London paved with gold a Jamaican
fellar went to the income tax office to find out something and first thing the clerk tell him is, ‘You
people think the streets of London are paved with gold?’ Newspaper and radio rule this country.
Write an analytical essay, exploring and evaluating how Samuel Selvon uses
features of language and structure to create an effective opening.
'NOW, what I want is, Facts. Teach these boys and girls nothing but Facts. Facts alone are
wanted in life. Plant nothing else, and root out everything else. You can only form the minds
of reasoning animals upon Facts: nothing else will ever be of any service to them. This is the
principle on which I bring up my own children, and this is the principle on which I bring up
these children. Stick to Facts, sir!'
The scene was a plain, bare, monotonous vault of a school-room, and the speaker's square
forefinger emphasized his observations by underscoring every sentence with a line on the
schoolmaster's sleeve. The emphasis was helped by the speaker's square wall of a forehead,
which had his eyebrows for its base, while his eyes found commodious cellarage in two dark
caves, overshadowed by the wall. The emphasis was helped by the speaker's mouth, which
was wide, thin, and hard set. The emphasis was helped by the speaker's voice, which was
inflexible, dry, and dictatorial. The emphasis was helped by the speaker's hair, which bristled
on the skirts of his bald head, a plantation of firs to keep the wind from its shining surface,
all covered with knobs, like the crust of a plum pie, as if the head had scarcely warehouse-
room for the hard facts stored inside. The speaker's obstinate carriage, square coat, square
legs, square shoulders, - nay, his very neckcloth, trained to take him by the throat with an
unaccommodating grasp, like a stubborn fact, as it was, - all helped the emphasis.
'In this life, we want nothing but Facts, sir; nothing but Facts!'
The speaker, and the schoolmaster, and the third grown personpresent, all backed a little,
and swept with their eyes theinclined plane of little vessels then and there arranged in
order,ready to have imperial gallons of facts poured into them until theywere full to the
brim.
Write an analytical essay, exploring and evaluating how Charles Dickens uses
features of language and structure to create an effective opening.
There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering, indeed, in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning; but since dinner (Mrs. Reed, when there was no company, dined early) the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so sombre, and a rain so penetrating, that further out-door exercise was now out of the question.
I was glad of it: I never liked long walks, especially on chilly afternoons: dreadful to me was the coming home in the raw twilight, with nipped fingers and toes, and a heart saddened by the chidings of Bessie, the nurse, and humbled by the consciousness of my physical inferiority to Eliza, John, and Georgiana Reed.
The said Eliza, John, and Georgiana were now clustered round their mama in the drawing-room: she lay reclined on a sofa by the fireside, and with her darlings about her (for the time neither quarrelling nor crying) looked perfectly happy. Me, she had dispensed from joining the group; saying, "She regretted to be under the necessity of keeping me at a distance; but that until she heard from Bessie, and could discover by her own observation, that I was endeavouring in good earnest to acquire a more sociable and childlike disposition, a more attractive and sprightly manner-- something lighter, franker, more natural, as it were--she really must exclude me from privileges intended only for contented, happy, little children."
"What does Bessie say I have done?" I asked.
"Jane, I don't like cavillers or questioners; besides, there is something truly forbidding in a child taking up her elders in that manner. Be seated somewhere; and until you can speak pleasantly, remain silent."
A breakfast-room adjoined the drawing-room, I slipped in there. It contained a bookcase: I soon possessed myself of a volume, taking care that it should be one stored with pictures. I mounted into the window-seat: gathering up my feet, I sat cross-legged, like a Turk; and, having drawn the red moreen curtain nearly close, I was shrined in double retirement.
Folds of scarlet drapery shut in my view to the right hand; to the left were the clear panes of glass, protecting, but not separating me from the drear November day. At intervals, while turning over the leaves of my book, I studied the aspect of that winter afternoon. Afar, it offered a pale blank of mist and cloud; near a scene of wet lawn and storm-beat shrub, with ceaseless rain sweeping away wildly before a long and lamentable blast.
Write an analytical essay, exploring and evaluating how Charlotte Brontë
uses features of language and structure to create an effective opening.
True! - nervous - very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses - not destroyed - not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily - how calmly I can tell you the whole story.
It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! He had the eye of a vulture - a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees - very gradually - I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.
Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded - with what caution - with what foresight - with what dissimulation I went to work! I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him. And every night, about midnight, I turned the latch of his door and opened it - oh so gently! And then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern, all closed, closed, so that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly - very, very slowly, so that I might not disturb the old man's sleep. It took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon his bed. Ha! - would a madman have been so wise ass this? And then, when my head was well in the room, I undid the lantern cautiously - oh, so cautiously - cautiously (for the hinges creaked) - I undid it just so much that a single thin ray fell upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights - very night just at midnight - but I found the eye always closed; and so it was impossible to do the work; for it was not the old man who vexed me, but his Evil Eye. And every morning, when the day broke, I went boldly into the chamber, and spike courageously to him, calling him by name in a hearty tone, and inquiring how he had passed the night. So you see he would have been a very profound old man, indeed, to suspect that every night, just at twelve, I looked upon him while he slept.
Write an analytical essay, exploring and evaluating how Edgar Allen Poe uses
features of language and structure to create an effective opening.
There are police everywhere. From a distance it is the first thing he sees. Even before he hears the
noise of sirens, the screams. Even before the BBC team appears. Acid-green jackets move grimly
about, directing the traffic, securing blue-and-white tape, herding people away. That’s what he sees.
A red, double-decker bus stands parked at an off angle, black smoke pouring out of its windows.
There is glass everywhere. His feet crunch on it and he notices shards glinting dangerously in the
light. His first thought is, Someone might cut themselves; his second is, There must have been a fire.
‘Move along, please, clear the path,’ the policeman shouts, roughly.
He pushes several people back with the palms of his hands. Then he speaks into his radio. There is a
smell of sweat and rubber. And explosives.
‘We need another ambulance over at checkpoint four,’ the policeman says. ‘Quickly. They’re
bringing more out. Have all the hospitals been alerted?’
‘We need the reinforcements, now!’
‘Yes. They’re on their way.’
‘What happened?’ Simon asks, urgently. ‘Was it a fire?’
His voice is hoarse; his throat has tightened up. There is an even tighter constriction across his chest.
He has been running. Al lth way over Lambeth Bridge, along Horseferry Road, up Park Lane towards
Edgeware Road. He wanted to go in the opposite direction, towards the Oval and the house Brixton
Beach. For a moment he had wavered, wanting to call at the house, knock on its blue-fronted doow,
but then he had carried on running. There are no taxis to be had. The traffic is gridlocked. It will be
gridlocked for hours. He should be at work, he should be at this post, standing by waiting for the
admissions, triaging the flood of casualties, but he has fled, unthinkingly. Never in the whole of his
professional career has he behaved in this irresponsible way. Panic chokes his voice; fear grips his
limbs as he scans the faces in front of him.
‘Clear the path, please.’
The noise of yet another ambulance siren deafens him. He isn’t used to hearing the sirens from the
outside. He is used to the calm of the operating theatre, the controlled energy of work. Scalpels
placed where they are always placed, nurses ready to second-guess his moves. He is not used to
chaos.
‘Oh my God! Oh God! Look! Look!’ a woman screams.
Her voice goes on and on screaming, making sounds but no sense.
It is only then Simon glances up and sees the bus. Its top has been completely blown off. Roof, seats,
windows, people. Half a bus really, standing motionless save for the thin wisps of smoke sailing lazily
out, upwards like a kite; into a startling blue.
Write an analytical essay, exploring and evaluating how Roma Tearne uses
features of language and structure to create an effective opening.