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Q2280165
Inglês
Texto associado
Leia o texto a seguir para responder a questão
On the surface, there is little to distinguish the Woolf Social Club from any other hipster
hangout in Seoul, South Korea. Customers perch on wooden stools at formica tables,
tapping on laptops while they sip their coffee. Records and cds line the walls, soft jazz
trickles from speakers. On the white wall above the bar, in big black letters, is the statement:
“More dignity, less bullshit”.
It is only on closer inspection that you realise this is more than just another coffee shop. On
the mugs are cartoon drawings of Virginia Woolf, an angry wolf roaring from her shirt. A
bookshelf contains South Korean feminist novels and works of self-help (titles include
“Lessons on Being Unmarried”) alongside “The Second Sex” by Simone de Beauvoir and
“The Handmaid’s Tale” by Margaret Atwood. On the wall is a poster for an exhibition of
feminist art at a nearby gallery.
“I wanted a space for like-minded women to meet and talk,” says Kim Jina, a 47-year-old
former advertising executive and politician who founded the café six years ago. Kim was
inspired by Woolf’s dictum that in order to write fiction, a woman needed “five hundred
[pounds] a year and a room with a lock on the door”. That is, financial independence and a
place to think. The café’s casual vibe is deliberate: she wanted to avoid creating barriers to
entry for women who were merely curious, rather than fully committed to the movement.
Besides, she adds, “If I limited myself to feminist customers, I could never make a living.”
South Korea, even its trendy capital, is a difficult place to be a woman. The wage gap
between the sexes is the highest in the rich world. Traditional expectations about gender
roles, beauty standards and the way women should conduct themselves remain pervasive.
“Misogyny surrounds you so naturally that you barely even notice it,” says Kim. “I had no
role models, so my idea of how a successful woman should be came straight from ‘Sex and
the City’.” For much of her 20s and 30s, she spent most of her money on make-up and
expensive handbags, partying every weekend and dreaming about meeting her version of
Mr Big, the rich, smooth-talking love interest of the show’s main character, Carrie.
“I never worried about misogyny because I thought being sexually attractive was a form of
power,” says Kim. “But eventually I realised that men with real power don’t wear make-up
and expensive dresses.” Her epiphany came when she was passed over for promotion in
favour of a male colleague. “My boss said, ‘He needs it more than you because he has a
wife and a child to take care of,’ and I realised that I had been wrong to think that all I needed
to do was work hard and be good at my job.”
Kim’s burgeoning feminism crystallised in the summer of 2016, after a woman was murdered
in a public toilet in an upmarket part of Seoul. The killer initially claimed that he had done it
because he had been ignored by women. “I lived right around the corner, and I thought: that
could have been me,” says Kim. Like many other women, she was upset by media coverage
that ignored the misogynist motives for his crime and blamed it entirely on his mental-health
problems.
The murder prompted South Korean women to come together, initially in online
communities, and discuss how to fight back against sexism. Then they took to the streets.
In 2018 there was a series of protests against the widespread practice of recording illegal
footage of women by hiding small cameras in public toilets or changing rooms.
Kim founded the Woolf Social Club in 2017. “I thought, we talk to each other on the internet,
but it would be good to have a physical space in which to do that,” she says. “If you walk
around Seoul, you see all these cafés aimed at couples, where women look pretty and lower
their voices. I wanted a space where they could raise them.”
[Fonte: Lena Schipper. “Virginia Woolf is inspiring South Korean feminists”. In: The
Economist, 09/05/2022,<http://www.economist.com/1843/2022/05/09/virginia-woolf-is-inspiring-south-korean-feminists>. Adaptado. Data de acesso: 27/08/2023.]
De acordo com os parágrafos seis e sete, as manifestações nas ruas contra
o sexismo na Coreia tiveram como estopim
Q2280164
Inglês
Texto associado
Leia o texto a seguir para responder a questão
On the surface, there is little to distinguish the Woolf Social Club from any other hipster
hangout in Seoul, South Korea. Customers perch on wooden stools at formica tables,
tapping on laptops while they sip their coffee. Records and cds line the walls, soft jazz
trickles from speakers. On the white wall above the bar, in big black letters, is the statement:
“More dignity, less bullshit”.
It is only on closer inspection that you realise this is more than just another coffee shop. On
the mugs are cartoon drawings of Virginia Woolf, an angry wolf roaring from her shirt. A
bookshelf contains South Korean feminist novels and works of self-help (titles include
“Lessons on Being Unmarried”) alongside “The Second Sex” by Simone de Beauvoir and
“The Handmaid’s Tale” by Margaret Atwood. On the wall is a poster for an exhibition of
feminist art at a nearby gallery.
“I wanted a space for like-minded women to meet and talk,” says Kim Jina, a 47-year-old
former advertising executive and politician who founded the café six years ago. Kim was
inspired by Woolf’s dictum that in order to write fiction, a woman needed “five hundred
[pounds] a year and a room with a lock on the door”. That is, financial independence and a
place to think. The café’s casual vibe is deliberate: she wanted to avoid creating barriers to
entry for women who were merely curious, rather than fully committed to the movement.
Besides, she adds, “If I limited myself to feminist customers, I could never make a living.”
South Korea, even its trendy capital, is a difficult place to be a woman. The wage gap
between the sexes is the highest in the rich world. Traditional expectations about gender
roles, beauty standards and the way women should conduct themselves remain pervasive.
“Misogyny surrounds you so naturally that you barely even notice it,” says Kim. “I had no
role models, so my idea of how a successful woman should be came straight from ‘Sex and
the City’.” For much of her 20s and 30s, she spent most of her money on make-up and
expensive handbags, partying every weekend and dreaming about meeting her version of
Mr Big, the rich, smooth-talking love interest of the show’s main character, Carrie.
“I never worried about misogyny because I thought being sexually attractive was a form of
power,” says Kim. “But eventually I realised that men with real power don’t wear make-up
and expensive dresses.” Her epiphany came when she was passed over for promotion in
favour of a male colleague. “My boss said, ‘He needs it more than you because he has a
wife and a child to take care of,’ and I realised that I had been wrong to think that all I needed
to do was work hard and be good at my job.”
Kim’s burgeoning feminism crystallised in the summer of 2016, after a woman was murdered
in a public toilet in an upmarket part of Seoul. The killer initially claimed that he had done it
because he had been ignored by women. “I lived right around the corner, and I thought: that
could have been me,” says Kim. Like many other women, she was upset by media coverage
that ignored the misogynist motives for his crime and blamed it entirely on his mental-health
problems.
The murder prompted South Korean women to come together, initially in online
communities, and discuss how to fight back against sexism. Then they took to the streets.
In 2018 there was a series of protests against the widespread practice of recording illegal
footage of women by hiding small cameras in public toilets or changing rooms.
Kim founded the Woolf Social Club in 2017. “I thought, we talk to each other on the internet,
but it would be good to have a physical space in which to do that,” she says. “If you walk
around Seoul, you see all these cafés aimed at couples, where women look pretty and lower
their voices. I wanted a space where they could raise them.”
[Fonte: Lena Schipper. “Virginia Woolf is inspiring South Korean feminists”. In: The
Economist, 09/05/2022,<http://www.economist.com/1843/2022/05/09/virginia-woolf-is-inspiring-south-korean-feminists>. Adaptado. Data de acesso: 27/08/2023.]
Dentre as razões expostas no texto sobre as dificuldades encontradas pelas
mulheres coreanas, são corretas as afirmações, EXCETO:
Q2280163
Inglês
Texto associado
Leia o texto a seguir para responder a questão
On the surface, there is little to distinguish the Woolf Social Club from any other hipster
hangout in Seoul, South Korea. Customers perch on wooden stools at formica tables,
tapping on laptops while they sip their coffee. Records and cds line the walls, soft jazz
trickles from speakers. On the white wall above the bar, in big black letters, is the statement:
“More dignity, less bullshit”.
It is only on closer inspection that you realise this is more than just another coffee shop. On
the mugs are cartoon drawings of Virginia Woolf, an angry wolf roaring from her shirt. A
bookshelf contains South Korean feminist novels and works of self-help (titles include
“Lessons on Being Unmarried”) alongside “The Second Sex” by Simone de Beauvoir and
“The Handmaid’s Tale” by Margaret Atwood. On the wall is a poster for an exhibition of
feminist art at a nearby gallery.
“I wanted a space for like-minded women to meet and talk,” says Kim Jina, a 47-year-old
former advertising executive and politician who founded the café six years ago. Kim was
inspired by Woolf’s dictum that in order to write fiction, a woman needed “five hundred
[pounds] a year and a room with a lock on the door”. That is, financial independence and a
place to think. The café’s casual vibe is deliberate: she wanted to avoid creating barriers to
entry for women who were merely curious, rather than fully committed to the movement.
Besides, she adds, “If I limited myself to feminist customers, I could never make a living.”
South Korea, even its trendy capital, is a difficult place to be a woman. The wage gap
between the sexes is the highest in the rich world. Traditional expectations about gender
roles, beauty standards and the way women should conduct themselves remain pervasive.
“Misogyny surrounds you so naturally that you barely even notice it,” says Kim. “I had no
role models, so my idea of how a successful woman should be came straight from ‘Sex and
the City’.” For much of her 20s and 30s, she spent most of her money on make-up and
expensive handbags, partying every weekend and dreaming about meeting her version of
Mr Big, the rich, smooth-talking love interest of the show’s main character, Carrie.
“I never worried about misogyny because I thought being sexually attractive was a form of
power,” says Kim. “But eventually I realised that men with real power don’t wear make-up
and expensive dresses.” Her epiphany came when she was passed over for promotion in
favour of a male colleague. “My boss said, ‘He needs it more than you because he has a
wife and a child to take care of,’ and I realised that I had been wrong to think that all I needed
to do was work hard and be good at my job.”
Kim’s burgeoning feminism crystallised in the summer of 2016, after a woman was murdered
in a public toilet in an upmarket part of Seoul. The killer initially claimed that he had done it
because he had been ignored by women. “I lived right around the corner, and I thought: that
could have been me,” says Kim. Like many other women, she was upset by media coverage
that ignored the misogynist motives for his crime and blamed it entirely on his mental-health
problems.
The murder prompted South Korean women to come together, initially in online
communities, and discuss how to fight back against sexism. Then they took to the streets.
In 2018 there was a series of protests against the widespread practice of recording illegal
footage of women by hiding small cameras in public toilets or changing rooms.
Kim founded the Woolf Social Club in 2017. “I thought, we talk to each other on the internet,
but it would be good to have a physical space in which to do that,” she says. “If you walk
around Seoul, you see all these cafés aimed at couples, where women look pretty and lower
their voices. I wanted a space where they could raise them.”
[Fonte: Lena Schipper. “Virginia Woolf is inspiring South Korean feminists”. In: The
Economist, 09/05/2022,<http://www.economist.com/1843/2022/05/09/virginia-woolf-is-inspiring-south-korean-feminists>. Adaptado. Data de acesso: 27/08/2023.]
In the excerpt from the third paragraph “I wanted a space for like-minded
women to meet and talk,” the underlined term expresses an idea of:
Q2280162
Inglês
Texto associado
Leia o texto a seguir para responder a questão
On the surface, there is little to distinguish the Woolf Social Club from any other hipster
hangout in Seoul, South Korea. Customers perch on wooden stools at formica tables,
tapping on laptops while they sip their coffee. Records and cds line the walls, soft jazz
trickles from speakers. On the white wall above the bar, in big black letters, is the statement:
“More dignity, less bullshit”.
It is only on closer inspection that you realise this is more than just another coffee shop. On
the mugs are cartoon drawings of Virginia Woolf, an angry wolf roaring from her shirt. A
bookshelf contains South Korean feminist novels and works of self-help (titles include
“Lessons on Being Unmarried”) alongside “The Second Sex” by Simone de Beauvoir and
“The Handmaid’s Tale” by Margaret Atwood. On the wall is a poster for an exhibition of
feminist art at a nearby gallery.
“I wanted a space for like-minded women to meet and talk,” says Kim Jina, a 47-year-old
former advertising executive and politician who founded the café six years ago. Kim was
inspired by Woolf’s dictum that in order to write fiction, a woman needed “five hundred
[pounds] a year and a room with a lock on the door”. That is, financial independence and a
place to think. The café’s casual vibe is deliberate: she wanted to avoid creating barriers to
entry for women who were merely curious, rather than fully committed to the movement.
Besides, she adds, “If I limited myself to feminist customers, I could never make a living.”
South Korea, even its trendy capital, is a difficult place to be a woman. The wage gap
between the sexes is the highest in the rich world. Traditional expectations about gender
roles, beauty standards and the way women should conduct themselves remain pervasive.
“Misogyny surrounds you so naturally that you barely even notice it,” says Kim. “I had no
role models, so my idea of how a successful woman should be came straight from ‘Sex and
the City’.” For much of her 20s and 30s, she spent most of her money on make-up and
expensive handbags, partying every weekend and dreaming about meeting her version of
Mr Big, the rich, smooth-talking love interest of the show’s main character, Carrie.
“I never worried about misogyny because I thought being sexually attractive was a form of
power,” says Kim. “But eventually I realised that men with real power don’t wear make-up
and expensive dresses.” Her epiphany came when she was passed over for promotion in
favour of a male colleague. “My boss said, ‘He needs it more than you because he has a
wife and a child to take care of,’ and I realised that I had been wrong to think that all I needed
to do was work hard and be good at my job.”
Kim’s burgeoning feminism crystallised in the summer of 2016, after a woman was murdered
in a public toilet in an upmarket part of Seoul. The killer initially claimed that he had done it
because he had been ignored by women. “I lived right around the corner, and I thought: that
could have been me,” says Kim. Like many other women, she was upset by media coverage
that ignored the misogynist motives for his crime and blamed it entirely on his mental-health
problems.
The murder prompted South Korean women to come together, initially in online
communities, and discuss how to fight back against sexism. Then they took to the streets.
In 2018 there was a series of protests against the widespread practice of recording illegal
footage of women by hiding small cameras in public toilets or changing rooms.
Kim founded the Woolf Social Club in 2017. “I thought, we talk to each other on the internet,
but it would be good to have a physical space in which to do that,” she says. “If you walk
around Seoul, you see all these cafés aimed at couples, where women look pretty and lower
their voices. I wanted a space where they could raise them.”
[Fonte: Lena Schipper. “Virginia Woolf is inspiring South Korean feminists”. In: The
Economist, 09/05/2022,<http://www.economist.com/1843/2022/05/09/virginia-woolf-is-inspiring-south-korean-feminists>. Adaptado. Data de acesso: 27/08/2023.]
Kim Jina was inspired by Virginia Woolf to open the Woolf Social Club because:
Q2280161
Inglês
Texto associado
Leia o texto a seguir para responder a questão
On the surface, there is little to distinguish the Woolf Social Club from any other hipster
hangout in Seoul, South Korea. Customers perch on wooden stools at formica tables,
tapping on laptops while they sip their coffee. Records and cds line the walls, soft jazz
trickles from speakers. On the white wall above the bar, in big black letters, is the statement:
“More dignity, less bullshit”.
It is only on closer inspection that you realise this is more than just another coffee shop. On
the mugs are cartoon drawings of Virginia Woolf, an angry wolf roaring from her shirt. A
bookshelf contains South Korean feminist novels and works of self-help (titles include
“Lessons on Being Unmarried”) alongside “The Second Sex” by Simone de Beauvoir and
“The Handmaid’s Tale” by Margaret Atwood. On the wall is a poster for an exhibition of
feminist art at a nearby gallery.
“I wanted a space for like-minded women to meet and talk,” says Kim Jina, a 47-year-old
former advertising executive and politician who founded the café six years ago. Kim was
inspired by Woolf’s dictum that in order to write fiction, a woman needed “five hundred
[pounds] a year and a room with a lock on the door”. That is, financial independence and a
place to think. The café’s casual vibe is deliberate: she wanted to avoid creating barriers to
entry for women who were merely curious, rather than fully committed to the movement.
Besides, she adds, “If I limited myself to feminist customers, I could never make a living.”
South Korea, even its trendy capital, is a difficult place to be a woman. The wage gap
between the sexes is the highest in the rich world. Traditional expectations about gender
roles, beauty standards and the way women should conduct themselves remain pervasive.
“Misogyny surrounds you so naturally that you barely even notice it,” says Kim. “I had no
role models, so my idea of how a successful woman should be came straight from ‘Sex and
the City’.” For much of her 20s and 30s, she spent most of her money on make-up and
expensive handbags, partying every weekend and dreaming about meeting her version of
Mr Big, the rich, smooth-talking love interest of the show’s main character, Carrie.
“I never worried about misogyny because I thought being sexually attractive was a form of
power,” says Kim. “But eventually I realised that men with real power don’t wear make-up
and expensive dresses.” Her epiphany came when she was passed over for promotion in
favour of a male colleague. “My boss said, ‘He needs it more than you because he has a
wife and a child to take care of,’ and I realised that I had been wrong to think that all I needed
to do was work hard and be good at my job.”
Kim’s burgeoning feminism crystallised in the summer of 2016, after a woman was murdered
in a public toilet in an upmarket part of Seoul. The killer initially claimed that he had done it
because he had been ignored by women. “I lived right around the corner, and I thought: that
could have been me,” says Kim. Like many other women, she was upset by media coverage
that ignored the misogynist motives for his crime and blamed it entirely on his mental-health
problems.
The murder prompted South Korean women to come together, initially in online
communities, and discuss how to fight back against sexism. Then they took to the streets.
In 2018 there was a series of protests against the widespread practice of recording illegal
footage of women by hiding small cameras in public toilets or changing rooms.
Kim founded the Woolf Social Club in 2017. “I thought, we talk to each other on the internet,
but it would be good to have a physical space in which to do that,” she says. “If you walk
around Seoul, you see all these cafés aimed at couples, where women look pretty and lower
their voices. I wanted a space where they could raise them.”
[Fonte: Lena Schipper. “Virginia Woolf is inspiring South Korean feminists”. In: The
Economist, 09/05/2022,<http://www.economist.com/1843/2022/05/09/virginia-woolf-is-inspiring-south-korean-feminists>. Adaptado. Data de acesso: 27/08/2023.]
In the excerpt from the second paragraph “A bookshelf contains South Korean
feminist novels and works of self-help (titles include “Lessons on Being Unmarried”)
alongside “The Second Sex” by Simone de Beauvoir and “The Handmaid’s Tale” by
Margaret Atwood”, the underlined word expresses an idea of:
Q2280160
Inglês
Texto associado
Leia o texto a seguir para responder a questão
On the surface, there is little to distinguish the Woolf Social Club from any other hipster
hangout in Seoul, South Korea. Customers perch on wooden stools at formica tables,
tapping on laptops while they sip their coffee. Records and cds line the walls, soft jazz
trickles from speakers. On the white wall above the bar, in big black letters, is the statement:
“More dignity, less bullshit”.
It is only on closer inspection that you realise this is more than just another coffee shop. On
the mugs are cartoon drawings of Virginia Woolf, an angry wolf roaring from her shirt. A
bookshelf contains South Korean feminist novels and works of self-help (titles include
“Lessons on Being Unmarried”) alongside “The Second Sex” by Simone de Beauvoir and
“The Handmaid’s Tale” by Margaret Atwood. On the wall is a poster for an exhibition of
feminist art at a nearby gallery.
“I wanted a space for like-minded women to meet and talk,” says Kim Jina, a 47-year-old
former advertising executive and politician who founded the café six years ago. Kim was
inspired by Woolf’s dictum that in order to write fiction, a woman needed “five hundred
[pounds] a year and a room with a lock on the door”. That is, financial independence and a
place to think. The café’s casual vibe is deliberate: she wanted to avoid creating barriers to
entry for women who were merely curious, rather than fully committed to the movement.
Besides, she adds, “If I limited myself to feminist customers, I could never make a living.”
South Korea, even its trendy capital, is a difficult place to be a woman. The wage gap
between the sexes is the highest in the rich world. Traditional expectations about gender
roles, beauty standards and the way women should conduct themselves remain pervasive.
“Misogyny surrounds you so naturally that you barely even notice it,” says Kim. “I had no
role models, so my idea of how a successful woman should be came straight from ‘Sex and
the City’.” For much of her 20s and 30s, she spent most of her money on make-up and
expensive handbags, partying every weekend and dreaming about meeting her version of
Mr Big, the rich, smooth-talking love interest of the show’s main character, Carrie.
“I never worried about misogyny because I thought being sexually attractive was a form of
power,” says Kim. “But eventually I realised that men with real power don’t wear make-up
and expensive dresses.” Her epiphany came when she was passed over for promotion in
favour of a male colleague. “My boss said, ‘He needs it more than you because he has a
wife and a child to take care of,’ and I realised that I had been wrong to think that all I needed
to do was work hard and be good at my job.”
Kim’s burgeoning feminism crystallised in the summer of 2016, after a woman was murdered
in a public toilet in an upmarket part of Seoul. The killer initially claimed that he had done it
because he had been ignored by women. “I lived right around the corner, and I thought: that
could have been me,” says Kim. Like many other women, she was upset by media coverage
that ignored the misogynist motives for his crime and blamed it entirely on his mental-health
problems.
The murder prompted South Korean women to come together, initially in online
communities, and discuss how to fight back against sexism. Then they took to the streets.
In 2018 there was a series of protests against the widespread practice of recording illegal
footage of women by hiding small cameras in public toilets or changing rooms.
Kim founded the Woolf Social Club in 2017. “I thought, we talk to each other on the internet,
but it would be good to have a physical space in which to do that,” she says. “If you walk
around Seoul, you see all these cafés aimed at couples, where women look pretty and lower
their voices. I wanted a space where they could raise them.”
[Fonte: Lena Schipper. “Virginia Woolf is inspiring South Korean feminists”. In: The
Economist, 09/05/2022,<http://www.economist.com/1843/2022/05/09/virginia-woolf-is-inspiring-south-korean-feminists>. Adaptado. Data de acesso: 27/08/2023.]
O Woolf Social Club é primordialmente um local onde
Q2280159
Inglês
Texto associado
Leia o texto a seguir para responder a questão.
Read Your Way Through Salvador
By Itamar Vieira Junior and translated by Johnny Lorenz. July 19, 2023.
I was born in Salvador, in the Brazilian state of Bahia, and lived in the general vicinity until I
reached the age of 15. But it was when I left that I really came to know my city. How was I
able to discover more about my birthplace while traveling far from home? It might sound
rather clichéd but, I assure you, literature made this possible: It took me on a journey, long
and profound, back home, enveloping me in words and imagination.
To understand the formation of our unique society and, consequently, the cityscape of
Salvador, one should read, before anything else, “The Story of Rufino: Slavery, Freedom
and Islam in the Black Atlantic,” by João José Reis, Flávio dos Santos Gomes and Marcus
J.M. de Carvalho. Rufino was an alufá, or Muslim spiritual leader, born in the Oyo empire in
present-day Nigeria and enslaved during his adolescence. “The Story of Rufino” is an epic
tale, encapsulating the life of one man in search of freedom as well as the history of the
development of Salvador itself, a place inextricably linked with the diaspora across the Black
Atlantic. Another book for which I have deep affection is “The City of Women,” by the
American anthropologist Ruth Landes. It offers an intriguing perspective, focusing on
matriarchal power in candomblé, an Afro-Brazilian sacred practice, and revealing how the
social organization of its spiritual communities reverberates across the city.
If you want to feel the intensity of life on the streets of Salvador, these two books, both by
Amado, are indispensable: “Captains of the Sands” and “Dona Flor and Her Two
Husbands.” The first is a coming-of-age story in which we follow a group of children and
adolescents living on the streets and on the beaches around the Bay of All Saints. Written
more than 80 years ago, the book was banned and even burned in the public square during
the dictatorship of Getúlio Vargas in the first half of the 20th century. As a portrait of
Salvador, it is still relevant and reveals our deep inequalities. “Dona Flor and her Two
Husbands” is one of Amado’s most popular novels, translated into more than 30 languages
and adapted many times for theater, cinema, and television. The book is a kind of manifesto
for a woman’s liberation. Dona Flor possesses great culinary talent, and oppressed by a
patriarchal society, finds herself divided between two men, one being her deceased
husband. While the novel captures the daily life of the city in the 1940s, it is also a wonderful
guide to the cuisine of Salvador, with its African and Portuguese influences.
I invite readers to travel into the interior of Bahia, many hours by car from Salvador to the
region known as the Sertão, whose name translates loosely to “backwoods.” Two books can
also transport you there, and they are sides of the same story: “Backlands: The Canudos
Campaign,” by Euclides da Cunha, and “The War of the End of the World,” by Mario
Vargas Llosa.
“Backlands” is one of the most important works in the history of Brazilian literature. It is a
journalistic telling that introduces us not only to the brutal War of Canudos, but also to the
intriguing landscape of the Sertão, a place so full of contradictions. In his writing of the
conflict, da Cunha tells the story of the genesis of the tough sertanejo: a mythic,
cowboyesque figure of the drought-stricken, lawless interior. “The War of the End of the
World” is an essential epic that amplifies the narrative of “Backlands,” bringing a more imaginative, creative aspect to the story of Antônio Conselheiro, the spiritual leader of a
rebellion, and of the multitude that followed him to their deaths.
[Fonte: “Read Your Way Through Salvador”. In: The New York Times, 19/07/2023,<http://www.nytimes.com/2023/07/19/books/salvador-bahia-brazil-books.html> . Adaptado. Data
de acesso: 01/09/2023.]
According to the information about the two books presented in the fourth and
fifth paragraphs,
Q2280158
Inglês
Texto associado
Leia o texto a seguir para responder a questão.
Read Your Way Through Salvador
By Itamar Vieira Junior and translated by Johnny Lorenz. July 19, 2023.
I was born in Salvador, in the Brazilian state of Bahia, and lived in the general vicinity until I
reached the age of 15. But it was when I left that I really came to know my city. How was I
able to discover more about my birthplace while traveling far from home? It might sound
rather clichéd but, I assure you, literature made this possible: It took me on a journey, long
and profound, back home, enveloping me in words and imagination.
To understand the formation of our unique society and, consequently, the cityscape of
Salvador, one should read, before anything else, “The Story of Rufino: Slavery, Freedom
and Islam in the Black Atlantic,” by João José Reis, Flávio dos Santos Gomes and Marcus
J.M. de Carvalho. Rufino was an alufá, or Muslim spiritual leader, born in the Oyo empire in
present-day Nigeria and enslaved during his adolescence. “The Story of Rufino” is an epic
tale, encapsulating the life of one man in search of freedom as well as the history of the
development of Salvador itself, a place inextricably linked with the diaspora across the Black
Atlantic. Another book for which I have deep affection is “The City of Women,” by the
American anthropologist Ruth Landes. It offers an intriguing perspective, focusing on
matriarchal power in candomblé, an Afro-Brazilian sacred practice, and revealing how the
social organization of its spiritual communities reverberates across the city.
If you want to feel the intensity of life on the streets of Salvador, these two books, both by
Amado, are indispensable: “Captains of the Sands” and “Dona Flor and Her Two
Husbands.” The first is a coming-of-age story in which we follow a group of children and
adolescents living on the streets and on the beaches around the Bay of All Saints. Written
more than 80 years ago, the book was banned and even burned in the public square during
the dictatorship of Getúlio Vargas in the first half of the 20th century. As a portrait of
Salvador, it is still relevant and reveals our deep inequalities. “Dona Flor and her Two
Husbands” is one of Amado’s most popular novels, translated into more than 30 languages
and adapted many times for theater, cinema, and television. The book is a kind of manifesto
for a woman’s liberation. Dona Flor possesses great culinary talent, and oppressed by a
patriarchal society, finds herself divided between two men, one being her deceased
husband. While the novel captures the daily life of the city in the 1940s, it is also a wonderful
guide to the cuisine of Salvador, with its African and Portuguese influences.
I invite readers to travel into the interior of Bahia, many hours by car from Salvador to the
region known as the Sertão, whose name translates loosely to “backwoods.” Two books can
also transport you there, and they are sides of the same story: “Backlands: The Canudos
Campaign,” by Euclides da Cunha, and “The War of the End of the World,” by Mario
Vargas Llosa.
“Backlands” is one of the most important works in the history of Brazilian literature. It is a
journalistic telling that introduces us not only to the brutal War of Canudos, but also to the
intriguing landscape of the Sertão, a place so full of contradictions. In his writing of the
conflict, da Cunha tells the story of the genesis of the tough sertanejo: a mythic,
cowboyesque figure of the drought-stricken, lawless interior. “The War of the End of the
World” is an essential epic that amplifies the narrative of “Backlands,” bringing a more imaginative, creative aspect to the story of Antônio Conselheiro, the spiritual leader of a
rebellion, and of the multitude that followed him to their deaths.
[Fonte: “Read Your Way Through Salvador”. In: The New York Times, 19/07/2023,<http://www.nytimes.com/2023/07/19/books/salvador-bahia-brazil-books.html> . Adaptado. Data
de acesso: 01/09/2023.]
No trecho do terceiro parágrafo “While the novel captures the daily life of the
city in the 1940s, it is also a wonderful guide to the cuisine of Salvador” o termo sublinhado
pode ser substituído, sem alteração de sentido, por:
Q2280157
Inglês
Texto associado
Leia o texto a seguir para responder a questão.
Read Your Way Through Salvador
By Itamar Vieira Junior and translated by Johnny Lorenz. July 19, 2023.
I was born in Salvador, in the Brazilian state of Bahia, and lived in the general vicinity until I
reached the age of 15. But it was when I left that I really came to know my city. How was I
able to discover more about my birthplace while traveling far from home? It might sound
rather clichéd but, I assure you, literature made this possible: It took me on a journey, long
and profound, back home, enveloping me in words and imagination.
To understand the formation of our unique society and, consequently, the cityscape of
Salvador, one should read, before anything else, “The Story of Rufino: Slavery, Freedom
and Islam in the Black Atlantic,” by João José Reis, Flávio dos Santos Gomes and Marcus
J.M. de Carvalho. Rufino was an alufá, or Muslim spiritual leader, born in the Oyo empire in
present-day Nigeria and enslaved during his adolescence. “The Story of Rufino” is an epic
tale, encapsulating the life of one man in search of freedom as well as the history of the
development of Salvador itself, a place inextricably linked with the diaspora across the Black
Atlantic. Another book for which I have deep affection is “The City of Women,” by the
American anthropologist Ruth Landes. It offers an intriguing perspective, focusing on
matriarchal power in candomblé, an Afro-Brazilian sacred practice, and revealing how the
social organization of its spiritual communities reverberates across the city.
If you want to feel the intensity of life on the streets of Salvador, these two books, both by
Amado, are indispensable: “Captains of the Sands” and “Dona Flor and Her Two
Husbands.” The first is a coming-of-age story in which we follow a group of children and
adolescents living on the streets and on the beaches around the Bay of All Saints. Written
more than 80 years ago, the book was banned and even burned in the public square during
the dictatorship of Getúlio Vargas in the first half of the 20th century. As a portrait of
Salvador, it is still relevant and reveals our deep inequalities. “Dona Flor and her Two
Husbands” is one of Amado’s most popular novels, translated into more than 30 languages
and adapted many times for theater, cinema, and television. The book is a kind of manifesto
for a woman’s liberation. Dona Flor possesses great culinary talent, and oppressed by a
patriarchal society, finds herself divided between two men, one being her deceased
husband. While the novel captures the daily life of the city in the 1940s, it is also a wonderful
guide to the cuisine of Salvador, with its African and Portuguese influences.
I invite readers to travel into the interior of Bahia, many hours by car from Salvador to the
region known as the Sertão, whose name translates loosely to “backwoods.” Two books can
also transport you there, and they are sides of the same story: “Backlands: The Canudos
Campaign,” by Euclides da Cunha, and “The War of the End of the World,” by Mario
Vargas Llosa.
“Backlands” is one of the most important works in the history of Brazilian literature. It is a
journalistic telling that introduces us not only to the brutal War of Canudos, but also to the
intriguing landscape of the Sertão, a place so full of contradictions. In his writing of the
conflict, da Cunha tells the story of the genesis of the tough sertanejo: a mythic,
cowboyesque figure of the drought-stricken, lawless interior. “The War of the End of the
World” is an essential epic that amplifies the narrative of “Backlands,” bringing a more imaginative, creative aspect to the story of Antônio Conselheiro, the spiritual leader of a
rebellion, and of the multitude that followed him to their deaths.
[Fonte: “Read Your Way Through Salvador”. In: The New York Times, 19/07/2023,<http://www.nytimes.com/2023/07/19/books/salvador-bahia-brazil-books.html> . Adaptado. Data
de acesso: 01/09/2023.]
No trecho do terceiro parágrafo “As a portrait of Salvador, it is still relevant and
reveals our deep inequalities”, o termo sublinhado contém um prefixo de negação. Assinale
a alternativa que apresenta o termo que NÃO contém prefixo de negação.
Q2280156
Inglês
Texto associado
Leia o texto a seguir para responder a questão.
Read Your Way Through Salvador
By Itamar Vieira Junior and translated by Johnny Lorenz. July 19, 2023.
I was born in Salvador, in the Brazilian state of Bahia, and lived in the general vicinity until I
reached the age of 15. But it was when I left that I really came to know my city. How was I
able to discover more about my birthplace while traveling far from home? It might sound
rather clichéd but, I assure you, literature made this possible: It took me on a journey, long
and profound, back home, enveloping me in words and imagination.
To understand the formation of our unique society and, consequently, the cityscape of
Salvador, one should read, before anything else, “The Story of Rufino: Slavery, Freedom
and Islam in the Black Atlantic,” by João José Reis, Flávio dos Santos Gomes and Marcus
J.M. de Carvalho. Rufino was an alufá, or Muslim spiritual leader, born in the Oyo empire in
present-day Nigeria and enslaved during his adolescence. “The Story of Rufino” is an epic
tale, encapsulating the life of one man in search of freedom as well as the history of the
development of Salvador itself, a place inextricably linked with the diaspora across the Black
Atlantic. Another book for which I have deep affection is “The City of Women,” by the
American anthropologist Ruth Landes. It offers an intriguing perspective, focusing on
matriarchal power in candomblé, an Afro-Brazilian sacred practice, and revealing how the
social organization of its spiritual communities reverberates across the city.
If you want to feel the intensity of life on the streets of Salvador, these two books, both by
Amado, are indispensable: “Captains of the Sands” and “Dona Flor and Her Two
Husbands.” The first is a coming-of-age story in which we follow a group of children and
adolescents living on the streets and on the beaches around the Bay of All Saints. Written
more than 80 years ago, the book was banned and even burned in the public square during
the dictatorship of Getúlio Vargas in the first half of the 20th century. As a portrait of
Salvador, it is still relevant and reveals our deep inequalities. “Dona Flor and her Two
Husbands” is one of Amado’s most popular novels, translated into more than 30 languages
and adapted many times for theater, cinema, and television. The book is a kind of manifesto
for a woman’s liberation. Dona Flor possesses great culinary talent, and oppressed by a
patriarchal society, finds herself divided between two men, one being her deceased
husband. While the novel captures the daily life of the city in the 1940s, it is also a wonderful
guide to the cuisine of Salvador, with its African and Portuguese influences.
I invite readers to travel into the interior of Bahia, many hours by car from Salvador to the
region known as the Sertão, whose name translates loosely to “backwoods.” Two books can
also transport you there, and they are sides of the same story: “Backlands: The Canudos
Campaign,” by Euclides da Cunha, and “The War of the End of the World,” by Mario
Vargas Llosa.
“Backlands” is one of the most important works in the history of Brazilian literature. It is a
journalistic telling that introduces us not only to the brutal War of Canudos, but also to the
intriguing landscape of the Sertão, a place so full of contradictions. In his writing of the
conflict, da Cunha tells the story of the genesis of the tough sertanejo: a mythic,
cowboyesque figure of the drought-stricken, lawless interior. “The War of the End of the
World” is an essential epic that amplifies the narrative of “Backlands,” bringing a more imaginative, creative aspect to the story of Antônio Conselheiro, the spiritual leader of a
rebellion, and of the multitude that followed him to their deaths.
[Fonte: “Read Your Way Through Salvador”. In: The New York Times, 19/07/2023,<http://www.nytimes.com/2023/07/19/books/salvador-bahia-brazil-books.html> . Adaptado. Data
de acesso: 01/09/2023.]
The two books that present same gender main characters around which the
action centers are:
Q2280155
Inglês
Texto associado
Leia o texto a seguir para responder a questão.
Read Your Way Through Salvador
By Itamar Vieira Junior and translated by Johnny Lorenz. July 19, 2023.
I was born in Salvador, in the Brazilian state of Bahia, and lived in the general vicinity until I
reached the age of 15. But it was when I left that I really came to know my city. How was I
able to discover more about my birthplace while traveling far from home? It might sound
rather clichéd but, I assure you, literature made this possible: It took me on a journey, long
and profound, back home, enveloping me in words and imagination.
To understand the formation of our unique society and, consequently, the cityscape of
Salvador, one should read, before anything else, “The Story of Rufino: Slavery, Freedom
and Islam in the Black Atlantic,” by João José Reis, Flávio dos Santos Gomes and Marcus
J.M. de Carvalho. Rufino was an alufá, or Muslim spiritual leader, born in the Oyo empire in
present-day Nigeria and enslaved during his adolescence. “The Story of Rufino” is an epic
tale, encapsulating the life of one man in search of freedom as well as the history of the
development of Salvador itself, a place inextricably linked with the diaspora across the Black
Atlantic. Another book for which I have deep affection is “The City of Women,” by the
American anthropologist Ruth Landes. It offers an intriguing perspective, focusing on
matriarchal power in candomblé, an Afro-Brazilian sacred practice, and revealing how the
social organization of its spiritual communities reverberates across the city.
If you want to feel the intensity of life on the streets of Salvador, these two books, both by
Amado, are indispensable: “Captains of the Sands” and “Dona Flor and Her Two
Husbands.” The first is a coming-of-age story in which we follow a group of children and
adolescents living on the streets and on the beaches around the Bay of All Saints. Written
more than 80 years ago, the book was banned and even burned in the public square during
the dictatorship of Getúlio Vargas in the first half of the 20th century. As a portrait of
Salvador, it is still relevant and reveals our deep inequalities. “Dona Flor and her Two
Husbands” is one of Amado’s most popular novels, translated into more than 30 languages
and adapted many times for theater, cinema, and television. The book is a kind of manifesto
for a woman’s liberation. Dona Flor possesses great culinary talent, and oppressed by a
patriarchal society, finds herself divided between two men, one being her deceased
husband. While the novel captures the daily life of the city in the 1940s, it is also a wonderful
guide to the cuisine of Salvador, with its African and Portuguese influences.
I invite readers to travel into the interior of Bahia, many hours by car from Salvador to the
region known as the Sertão, whose name translates loosely to “backwoods.” Two books can
also transport you there, and they are sides of the same story: “Backlands: The Canudos
Campaign,” by Euclides da Cunha, and “The War of the End of the World,” by Mario
Vargas Llosa.
“Backlands” is one of the most important works in the history of Brazilian literature. It is a
journalistic telling that introduces us not only to the brutal War of Canudos, but also to the
intriguing landscape of the Sertão, a place so full of contradictions. In his writing of the
conflict, da Cunha tells the story of the genesis of the tough sertanejo: a mythic,
cowboyesque figure of the drought-stricken, lawless interior. “The War of the End of the
World” is an essential epic that amplifies the narrative of “Backlands,” bringing a more imaginative, creative aspect to the story of Antônio Conselheiro, the spiritual leader of a
rebellion, and of the multitude that followed him to their deaths.
[Fonte: “Read Your Way Through Salvador”. In: The New York Times, 19/07/2023,<http://www.nytimes.com/2023/07/19/books/salvador-bahia-brazil-books.html> . Adaptado. Data
de acesso: 01/09/2023.]
According to the text, the author recommends the book “The Story of Rufino:
Slavery, Freedom and Islam in the Black Atlantic” for the reader to
Q2280154
Inglês
Texto associado
Leia o texto a seguir para responder a questão.
Read Your Way Through Salvador
By Itamar Vieira Junior and translated by Johnny Lorenz. July 19, 2023.
I was born in Salvador, in the Brazilian state of Bahia, and lived in the general vicinity until I
reached the age of 15. But it was when I left that I really came to know my city. How was I
able to discover more about my birthplace while traveling far from home? It might sound
rather clichéd but, I assure you, literature made this possible: It took me on a journey, long
and profound, back home, enveloping me in words and imagination.
To understand the formation of our unique society and, consequently, the cityscape of
Salvador, one should read, before anything else, “The Story of Rufino: Slavery, Freedom
and Islam in the Black Atlantic,” by João José Reis, Flávio dos Santos Gomes and Marcus
J.M. de Carvalho. Rufino was an alufá, or Muslim spiritual leader, born in the Oyo empire in
present-day Nigeria and enslaved during his adolescence. “The Story of Rufino” is an epic
tale, encapsulating the life of one man in search of freedom as well as the history of the
development of Salvador itself, a place inextricably linked with the diaspora across the Black
Atlantic. Another book for which I have deep affection is “The City of Women,” by the
American anthropologist Ruth Landes. It offers an intriguing perspective, focusing on
matriarchal power in candomblé, an Afro-Brazilian sacred practice, and revealing how the
social organization of its spiritual communities reverberates across the city.
If you want to feel the intensity of life on the streets of Salvador, these two books, both by
Amado, are indispensable: “Captains of the Sands” and “Dona Flor and Her Two
Husbands.” The first is a coming-of-age story in which we follow a group of children and
adolescents living on the streets and on the beaches around the Bay of All Saints. Written
more than 80 years ago, the book was banned and even burned in the public square during
the dictatorship of Getúlio Vargas in the first half of the 20th century. As a portrait of
Salvador, it is still relevant and reveals our deep inequalities. “Dona Flor and her Two
Husbands” is one of Amado’s most popular novels, translated into more than 30 languages
and adapted many times for theater, cinema, and television. The book is a kind of manifesto
for a woman’s liberation. Dona Flor possesses great culinary talent, and oppressed by a
patriarchal society, finds herself divided between two men, one being her deceased
husband. While the novel captures the daily life of the city in the 1940s, it is also a wonderful
guide to the cuisine of Salvador, with its African and Portuguese influences.
I invite readers to travel into the interior of Bahia, many hours by car from Salvador to the
region known as the Sertão, whose name translates loosely to “backwoods.” Two books can
also transport you there, and they are sides of the same story: “Backlands: The Canudos
Campaign,” by Euclides da Cunha, and “The War of the End of the World,” by Mario
Vargas Llosa.
“Backlands” is one of the most important works in the history of Brazilian literature. It is a
journalistic telling that introduces us not only to the brutal War of Canudos, but also to the
intriguing landscape of the Sertão, a place so full of contradictions. In his writing of the
conflict, da Cunha tells the story of the genesis of the tough sertanejo: a mythic,
cowboyesque figure of the drought-stricken, lawless interior. “The War of the End of the
World” is an essential epic that amplifies the narrative of “Backlands,” bringing a more imaginative, creative aspect to the story of Antônio Conselheiro, the spiritual leader of a
rebellion, and of the multitude that followed him to their deaths.
[Fonte: “Read Your Way Through Salvador”. In: The New York Times, 19/07/2023,<http://www.nytimes.com/2023/07/19/books/salvador-bahia-brazil-books.html> . Adaptado. Data
de acesso: 01/09/2023.]
The text mainly intends to
Q1901467
Inglês
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Leia o texto destacado para responder à questão.
Meritocracy has become a leading social ideal. Politicians across the ideological spectrum
continually return to the theme that the rewards of life—money, power, jobs, university
admission—should be distributed according to skill and effort. The most common metaphor is the
‘even playing field’ upon which players can rise to the position that fits their merit. Conceptually
and morally, meritocracy is presented as the opposite of systems such as hereditary aristocracy, in
which one’s social position is determined by the lottery of birth. Under meritocracy, wealth and
advantage are merit’s rightful compensation, not the fortuitous windfall of external events. And
most people don’t just think the world should be run meritocratically, they think it is
meritocratic. However, although widely held, the belief that merit rather than luck determines
success or failure in the world is demonstrably false. This is not least because merit itself is, in
large part, the result of luck. Talent and the capacity for determined effort, sometimes called
‘grit’, depend a great deal on one’s genetic endowments and upbringing.
Perhaps more disturbing, simply holding meritocracy as a value seems to promote discriminatory
behaviour. The management scholar Emilio Castilla at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology
and the sociologist Stephen Benard at Indiana University studied attempts to implement
meritocratic practices, such as performance-based compensation in private companies. They found
that, in companies that explicitly held meritocracy as a core value, managers assigned greater
rewards to male employees over female employees with identical performance evaluations. This
preference disappeared where meritocracy was not explicitly adopted as a value.
This is surprising because impartiality is the core of meritocracy’s moral appeal. The ‘even
playing field’ is intended to avoid unfair inequalities based on gender, race and the like. Yet Castilla and Benard found that, ironically, attempts to implement meritocracy leads to just the
kinds of inequalities that it aims to eliminate. They suggest that this ‘paradox of meritocracy’
occurs because explicitly adopting meritocracy as a value convinces subjects of their own moral
sincerity. Satisfied that they are just, they become less inclined to examine their own behaviour
for signs of prejudice.
As with any ideology, part of its draw is that it justifies the status quo, explaining why people
belong where they happen to be in the social order. It is a well-established psychological principle
that people prefer to believe that the world is just.
Fonte: https://bigthink.com/. Publicado em 23/03/2019. Acesso em 20/08/2021. Adaptado.
De acordo com o quarto parágrafo, a meritocracia promove
Q1901466
Inglês
Texto associado
Leia o texto destacado para responder à questão.
Meritocracy has become a leading social ideal. Politicians across the ideological spectrum
continually return to the theme that the rewards of life—money, power, jobs, university
admission—should be distributed according to skill and effort. The most common metaphor is the
‘even playing field’ upon which players can rise to the position that fits their merit. Conceptually
and morally, meritocracy is presented as the opposite of systems such as hereditary aristocracy, in
which one’s social position is determined by the lottery of birth. Under meritocracy, wealth and
advantage are merit’s rightful compensation, not the fortuitous windfall of external events. And
most people don’t just think the world should be run meritocratically, they think it is
meritocratic. However, although widely held, the belief that merit rather than luck determines
success or failure in the world is demonstrably false. This is not least because merit itself is, in
large part, the result of luck. Talent and the capacity for determined effort, sometimes called
‘grit’, depend a great deal on one’s genetic endowments and upbringing.
Perhaps more disturbing, simply holding meritocracy as a value seems to promote discriminatory
behaviour. The management scholar Emilio Castilla at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology
and the sociologist Stephen Benard at Indiana University studied attempts to implement
meritocratic practices, such as performance-based compensation in private companies. They found
that, in companies that explicitly held meritocracy as a core value, managers assigned greater
rewards to male employees over female employees with identical performance evaluations. This
preference disappeared where meritocracy was not explicitly adopted as a value.
This is surprising because impartiality is the core of meritocracy’s moral appeal. The ‘even
playing field’ is intended to avoid unfair inequalities based on gender, race and the like. Yet Castilla and Benard found that, ironically, attempts to implement meritocracy leads to just the
kinds of inequalities that it aims to eliminate. They suggest that this ‘paradox of meritocracy’
occurs because explicitly adopting meritocracy as a value convinces subjects of their own moral
sincerity. Satisfied that they are just, they become less inclined to examine their own behaviour
for signs of prejudice.
As with any ideology, part of its draw is that it justifies the status quo, explaining why people
belong where they happen to be in the social order. It is a well-established psychological principle
that people prefer to believe that the world is just.
Fonte: https://bigthink.com/. Publicado em 23/03/2019. Acesso em 20/08/2021. Adaptado.
According to the third and fourth paragraphs, researchers at the Massachusetts Institute of
Technology and Indiana University found that meritocracy
Q1901465
Inglês
Texto associado
Leia o texto destacado para responder à questão.
Meritocracy has become a leading social ideal. Politicians across the ideological spectrum
continually return to the theme that the rewards of life—money, power, jobs, university
admission—should be distributed according to skill and effort. The most common metaphor is the
‘even playing field’ upon which players can rise to the position that fits their merit. Conceptually
and morally, meritocracy is presented as the opposite of systems such as hereditary aristocracy, in
which one’s social position is determined by the lottery of birth. Under meritocracy, wealth and
advantage are merit’s rightful compensation, not the fortuitous windfall of external events. And
most people don’t just think the world should be run meritocratically, they think it is
meritocratic. However, although widely held, the belief that merit rather than luck determines
success or failure in the world is demonstrably false. This is not least because merit itself is, in
large part, the result of luck. Talent and the capacity for determined effort, sometimes called
‘grit’, depend a great deal on one’s genetic endowments and upbringing.
Perhaps more disturbing, simply holding meritocracy as a value seems to promote discriminatory
behaviour. The management scholar Emilio Castilla at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology
and the sociologist Stephen Benard at Indiana University studied attempts to implement
meritocratic practices, such as performance-based compensation in private companies. They found
that, in companies that explicitly held meritocracy as a core value, managers assigned greater
rewards to male employees over female employees with identical performance evaluations. This
preference disappeared where meritocracy was not explicitly adopted as a value.
This is surprising because impartiality is the core of meritocracy’s moral appeal. The ‘even
playing field’ is intended to avoid unfair inequalities based on gender, race and the like. Yet Castilla and Benard found that, ironically, attempts to implement meritocracy leads to just the
kinds of inequalities that it aims to eliminate. They suggest that this ‘paradox of meritocracy’
occurs because explicitly adopting meritocracy as a value convinces subjects of their own moral
sincerity. Satisfied that they are just, they become less inclined to examine their own behaviour
for signs of prejudice.
As with any ideology, part of its draw is that it justifies the status quo, explaining why people
belong where they happen to be in the social order. It is a well-established psychological principle
that people prefer to believe that the world is just.
Fonte: https://bigthink.com/. Publicado em 23/03/2019. Acesso em 20/08/2021. Adaptado.
According to the first paragraph, one of the supporting arguments for meritocracy is:
Q1901464
Inglês
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Leia o texto destacado para responder à questão.
In a new survey of North American Indian languages, Marianne Mithun gives an admirably clear
statement of what is lost as each language ceases to be used. “Speakers of these languages and
their descendants are acutely aware of what it can mean to lose a language,” she begins – and this
is perfectly true, although these speakers must have taken the decision themselves not to teach
the language to their children. It happens all too often – people regret that their language and
culture are being lost but at the same time decide not to saddle their own children with the chore
of preserving them.
When a language disappears [Mithun continues] the most intimate aspects of culture can
disappear as well: fundamental ways of organizing experience into concepts, of relating ideas to
each other, of interacting to people. The more conscious genres of verbal art are usually lost as
well: traditional ritual, oratory, myth, legends, and even humor. Speakers commonly remark that
when they speak a different language, they say different things and even think different thoughts.
These are very interesting assertions. They slip by in a book on anthropological linguistics, where
in a book on linguistic theory they would be highly contentious. Is it true that “fundamental ways
of organizing experience into concepts [and] of relating ideas to each other” are specific to
individual languages and are therefore likely to be lost when a language ceases to be used? Is it
true that when speakers speak a different language, they “say different things and even think
different thoughts”? Again, the extent to which thought depends on language is very
controversial. These questions must be now faced, because only when we have reached an opinion on them will we be able to accept or reject Marianne Mithun’s conclusion: “The loss of a language
represents a definitive separation of a people from its heritage. It also represents an irreparable
loss for us all, the loss of opportunities to glimpse alternative ways of making sense of the human
experience.”
Fonte: Dalby, Andrew. Language in danger. New York: Columbia University Press, 2003, p. 252; 285.
Adaptado.
De acordo com o texto, é correto afirmar que com o desaparecimento de uma língua, aspectos
dessa cultura também estão fadados ao desaparecimento, exceto
Q1901463
Inglês
Texto associado
Leia o texto destacado para responder à questão.
In a new survey of North American Indian languages, Marianne Mithun gives an admirably clear
statement of what is lost as each language ceases to be used. “Speakers of these languages and
their descendants are acutely aware of what it can mean to lose a language,” she begins – and this
is perfectly true, although these speakers must have taken the decision themselves not to teach
the language to their children. It happens all too often – people regret that their language and
culture are being lost but at the same time decide not to saddle their own children with the chore
of preserving them.
When a language disappears [Mithun continues] the most intimate aspects of culture can
disappear as well: fundamental ways of organizing experience into concepts, of relating ideas to
each other, of interacting to people. The more conscious genres of verbal art are usually lost as
well: traditional ritual, oratory, myth, legends, and even humor. Speakers commonly remark that
when they speak a different language, they say different things and even think different thoughts.
These are very interesting assertions. They slip by in a book on anthropological linguistics, where
in a book on linguistic theory they would be highly contentious. Is it true that “fundamental ways
of organizing experience into concepts [and] of relating ideas to each other” are specific to
individual languages and are therefore likely to be lost when a language ceases to be used? Is it
true that when speakers speak a different language, they “say different things and even think
different thoughts”? Again, the extent to which thought depends on language is very
controversial. These questions must be now faced, because only when we have reached an opinion on them will we be able to accept or reject Marianne Mithun’s conclusion: “The loss of a language
represents a definitive separation of a people from its heritage. It also represents an irreparable
loss for us all, the loss of opportunities to glimpse alternative ways of making sense of the human
experience.”
Fonte: Dalby, Andrew. Language in danger. New York: Columbia University Press, 2003, p. 252; 285.
Adaptado.
O termo “must”, destacado em itálico no excerto do segundo parágrafo, “These questions must
be now faced”, pode ser substituído, sem alteração de significado, por
Q1901462
Inglês
Texto associado
Leia o texto destacado para responder à questão.
In a new survey of North American Indian languages, Marianne Mithun gives an admirably clear
statement of what is lost as each language ceases to be used. “Speakers of these languages and
their descendants are acutely aware of what it can mean to lose a language,” she begins – and this
is perfectly true, although these speakers must have taken the decision themselves not to teach
the language to their children. It happens all too often – people regret that their language and
culture are being lost but at the same time decide not to saddle their own children with the chore
of preserving them.
When a language disappears [Mithun continues] the most intimate aspects of culture can
disappear as well: fundamental ways of organizing experience into concepts, of relating ideas to
each other, of interacting to people. The more conscious genres of verbal art are usually lost as
well: traditional ritual, oratory, myth, legends, and even humor. Speakers commonly remark that
when they speak a different language, they say different things and even think different thoughts.
These are very interesting assertions. They slip by in a book on anthropological linguistics, where
in a book on linguistic theory they would be highly contentious. Is it true that “fundamental ways
of organizing experience into concepts [and] of relating ideas to each other” are specific to
individual languages and are therefore likely to be lost when a language ceases to be used? Is it
true that when speakers speak a different language, they “say different things and even think
different thoughts”? Again, the extent to which thought depends on language is very
controversial. These questions must be now faced, because only when we have reached an opinion on them will we be able to accept or reject Marianne Mithun’s conclusion: “The loss of a language
represents a definitive separation of a people from its heritage. It also represents an irreparable
loss for us all, the loss of opportunities to glimpse alternative ways of making sense of the human
experience.”
Fonte: Dalby, Andrew. Language in danger. New York: Columbia University Press, 2003, p. 252; 285.
Adaptado.
De acordo com a linguista Marianne Mithun
Q1901461
Inglês
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Leia o texto destacado para responder à questão.
Jaap Wagelaar was my all-time favorite secondary school teacher. He gave me a 10/10 for my
oral Dutch literature exam, taught psychoanalysis during grammar class, astounded pupils with
odd puppet show performances during lunch breaks and sadly ended his career with a burn-out.
Few students and fellow teachers understood him. But since I trusted his judgment like nobody
else’s, I once asked him why Piet Paaltjens and Gerard Reve, both canonized Dutch literary
figures, albeit of very divergent genres, could occasionally be kind or ironic but were more often
rather cynical, cold and heartless. The response he gave has stuck with me ever since: cynical
people are in fact the most emotional ones. Because of their sentimentality they are unable to
handle injustice and feel forced to build up a self-protective screen against painful emotions called
cynicism. Irony is mild, harmless and green. Sarcasm is biting and represents an orange traffic
light. And the color of cynicism is deep red, with the shape of a grim scar that hides a hurt soul.
They are all equally beautiful.
These words again came to my mind when thinking back on the dozens of ironic, sarcastic and
cynical memes about underperforming politicians and policy scandals disseminated over the past year. Who has not seen the image of Donald Trump walking through a desolate, scorched forest
mumbling to himself: ‘My work here is almost done’? Who has not read the scathing reports of
Flemish Ministers Bart Somers and Hilde Crevits escaping from a window aided by an
unidentified third person after a meeting of the Council of Ministers to avoid critical journalists
with the defense that they urgently needed to go on holiday and windows are faster than doors?
Who has not come across the video announcement for a fictitious thriller called Angstra
Zeneca with Dutch Health Minister Hugo de Jonge exclaiming ‘ik heb er zo’n kankerbende van
gemaakt’ (I have made it all a cancerous mess) with a grimace stretching from ear to ear? And
who has missed the most recent true story tragicomedy played by Charles Michel, male President
of the European Council, and Ursula von der Leyen, female President of the European
Commission, who had jointly been invited by Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan to discuss
the position of women in Turkey? Unfortunately, they were only offered one chair for two people,
which was symbolically occupied by Michel who left Von der Leyen standing awkwardly for a
while. She ended up settling for a place on the comfortable sofa reserved for second rank guests.
It was damned easy to get addicted to these countless videos, photos, images and written
parodies. Oh, did we have fun with them! Some were ironic, some sarcastic and others cynical,
but they jointly sketch a disconcerting image of the quality and reputation of key politicians in
liberal Western democracies.
Fonte: https://www.eur.nl/en/news/. Publicado em 16/04/2021. Acesso em 29/08/21. Adaptado.
Em um encontro para discutir a posição da mulher, o anfitrião
Q1901460
Inglês
Texto associado
Leia o texto destacado para responder à questão.
Jaap Wagelaar was my all-time favorite secondary school teacher. He gave me a 10/10 for my
oral Dutch literature exam, taught psychoanalysis during grammar class, astounded pupils with
odd puppet show performances during lunch breaks and sadly ended his career with a burn-out.
Few students and fellow teachers understood him. But since I trusted his judgment like nobody
else’s, I once asked him why Piet Paaltjens and Gerard Reve, both canonized Dutch literary
figures, albeit of very divergent genres, could occasionally be kind or ironic but were more often
rather cynical, cold and heartless. The response he gave has stuck with me ever since: cynical
people are in fact the most emotional ones. Because of their sentimentality they are unable to
handle injustice and feel forced to build up a self-protective screen against painful emotions called
cynicism. Irony is mild, harmless and green. Sarcasm is biting and represents an orange traffic
light. And the color of cynicism is deep red, with the shape of a grim scar that hides a hurt soul.
They are all equally beautiful.
These words again came to my mind when thinking back on the dozens of ironic, sarcastic and
cynical memes about underperforming politicians and policy scandals disseminated over the past year. Who has not seen the image of Donald Trump walking through a desolate, scorched forest
mumbling to himself: ‘My work here is almost done’? Who has not read the scathing reports of
Flemish Ministers Bart Somers and Hilde Crevits escaping from a window aided by an
unidentified third person after a meeting of the Council of Ministers to avoid critical journalists
with the defense that they urgently needed to go on holiday and windows are faster than doors?
Who has not come across the video announcement for a fictitious thriller called Angstra
Zeneca with Dutch Health Minister Hugo de Jonge exclaiming ‘ik heb er zo’n kankerbende van
gemaakt’ (I have made it all a cancerous mess) with a grimace stretching from ear to ear? And
who has missed the most recent true story tragicomedy played by Charles Michel, male President
of the European Council, and Ursula von der Leyen, female President of the European
Commission, who had jointly been invited by Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan to discuss
the position of women in Turkey? Unfortunately, they were only offered one chair for two people,
which was symbolically occupied by Michel who left Von der Leyen standing awkwardly for a
while. She ended up settling for a place on the comfortable sofa reserved for second rank guests.
It was damned easy to get addicted to these countless videos, photos, images and written
parodies. Oh, did we have fun with them! Some were ironic, some sarcastic and others cynical,
but they jointly sketch a disconcerting image of the quality and reputation of key politicians in
liberal Western democracies.
Fonte: https://www.eur.nl/en/news/. Publicado em 16/04/2021. Acesso em 29/08/21. Adaptado.
O termo “albeit”, destacado em itálico no excerto do primeiro parágrafo, “both canonized
Dutch literary figures albeit of very divergent genres”, tem sentido equivalente a
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