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[阅读小分队] 【Native Speaker每日训练计划】No.2785 文史哲

发表于 2020-5-20 23:24:37 | 显示全部楼层 |阅读模式
内容:Sirrena Lai 编辑:Smiling Sima

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Part I: Speaker

Traffic Is Way Down Because Of Lockdown, But Air Pollution? Not So Much
May 19, 20205:00 AM ET
Heard on Morning Edition

[Rephrase: 5:07]

Source: NPR  

Part II: Speed

What’s Fact and What’s Fiction in Capone
We break down the wild new biopic starring Tom Hardy.

MAY 14, 2020

[Time 2]
Capone, screenwriter and director Josh Trank’s look at the notorious gangster’s final years, out this week on video on demand, is a hallucinatory trip deep into the mind of Al Capone, and an even deeper, even more hallucinatory trip into the mind of Tom Hardy, whose gonzo scene-chewing is the film’s great pleasure. Capone is about guilt and dementia much more than it’s about the Chicago Outfit, but some real people and events from the life of Al Capone make it into the mix. Below, we consult Deirdre Bair’s biography Al Capone: His Life, Legacy, and Legend, contemporary reporting, newsreel footage, and more to break down what’s real, what’s delusion, and what comes only from the demented minds of the filmmakers.

Al Capone (Tom Hardy)

Alphonse Capone was, as you may have heard, a real person, and although many of the events depicted in Capone are imagined, Trank’s vision of his final years has some basis in the truth. Capone led the exceptionally violent organized crime syndicate known as the Chicago Outfit from 1925 until 1931, when he was convicted of income tax evasion and sentenced to 11 years in prison. Diagnosed with syphilis during his intake medical examinations at the federal prison in Atlanta—he probably contracted it as a teenager—Capone was given bismuth therapy, known by then to be worthless. In 1934, he was transferred to the newly opened Alcatraz Federal Prison, where doctors were appalled with the medical care he’d received in Atlanta, but his neurological condition continued to deteriorate. By 1938, the confusion and bad temper caused by the disease had turned into episodes of full-blown delirium, and after he was released from prison in 1939, he went straight to a hospital in Baltimore. From there, Capone retired to a home on Palm Island in Florida he had purchased in 1928. He was eventually treated with penicillin—he was one of the first nonmilitary patients to be given the drug—but it was too late to reverse the damage to his brain. According to biographer Bair, who interviewed Capone’s surviving family members, the family kept him away from strangers, because, according to a Capone family member who did not wish to be identified:
[368 words]

[Time 3]
… he said things he should not have. He talked to dead people and told them why they had to die. Sometimes he gave away business. Outfit business. We couldn’t take a chance that any of this would get out.

The FBI surveilled him during this time period, but nothing came of it. Some of the more colorful stories about Capone’s behavior during his last years are dubious—the one about him trying to fish in his swimming pool has been hotly contested by his family—but by 1945 he required constant supervision and was said to have had the mental age of a 7-year-old. He died on Jan. 25, 1947. Here’s some newsreel footage of his Florida estate at the time of his death, including a blimp shot:

Mae Capone, née Coughlin, married Al Capone in 1918 and, as seen in Capone, was his primary caregiver during his last years. Mae was the daughter of Irish immigrants—Capone has her conspicuously not understand her husband’s Italian, although it’s hard to tell if that’s the language barrier or the Tom Hardy barrier—and her mother’s opposition to the match meant they were not married until a month after the (premature) birth of their only child, Albert Francis Capone. Mae was not directly involved in her husband’s criminal enterprises; Capone installed his family in a house in the Park Manor neighborhood of Chicago while running his businesses out of a series of hotels. She caught syphilis from her husband but did not suffer the same neurological problems, and reportedly had a difficult time accepting that Al’s mental decline was permanent. She died in 1986.

Besides Al and Mae, and brief appearances from Capone’s brother Ralph (Al Sapienza) and son, Albert (Noel Fisher), the other characters in Capone are composites, fictions, or outright hallucinations. But the film does raise numerous other questions about Al Capone’s life, which we’ll try to answer below.

Did Al Capone Really Sound Like That?

There aren’t any recordings of Capone’s voice, so naturally, Tom Hardy based his on Bugs Bunny. Don’t be fooled: The video below is not newsreel footage of Al Capone.
[356 words]

[Time 4]
Did Al Capone Have an Illegitimate Son Who Kept Calling His House in Florida?

Not that anyone knows of. A number of people have claimed to be Capone’s illegitimate offspring, but so far, none of their claims have checked out. Capone was a philanderer and was rumored to have at least one long-term mistress, but so far, there’s no evidence he had children with any of them.

Did Louis Armstrong Sing “Blueberry Hill” at a Party Capone Attended?

During one of Capone’s many hallucinations, he attends an Overlook Hotel–looking party in an art deco ballroom where Louis Armstrong is performing an Overlook Hotel–sounding version of “Blueberry Hill.” As the crowd applauds, Armstrong invites Capone on stage to sing along. This could not have happened: Although “Blueberry Hill” was released in 1940, Armstrong didn’t record his version until 1949, two years after Capone died, and the recordings Capone might have been familiar with don’t sound much like Armstrong’s version, because no one sounds like Armstrong. Here’s Glenn Miller’s take from 1940, with Ray Eberle singing:

But although Capone would have been unlikely to hallucinate Armstrong singing “Blueberry Hill” unless syphilis turned him into a great A&R man, he and Armstrong knew each other, because early in his career, Armstrong played venues Capone’s outfit controlled. Capone ran several clubs in Chicago that catered to mixed-race crowds and had a decent reputation among black musicians for not cheating them. Armstrong later described Capone as “a nice little cute fat boy, young, like some professor who had just come out of college to teach or something.” Fats Waller had a slightly worse experience: He was kidnapped after a performance and taken at gunpoint to play at Capone’s birthday party, which lasted three days.

Was One of Capone’s Mistresses Shot in the Head With a Machine Gun in an Attempt to Hit Capone While He Was Having Sex With Her?

Not that anyone knows. Although there were numerous attempts on Capone’s life, none of them match the killing Capone hallucinates in the film.

Was Al Capone Haunted by the Memory of Witnessing a Former Associate Get Stabbed in the Neck a Comical Number of Times on His Orders?

Maybe? The list of 33 people Capone allegedly ordered killed published in the Chicago Tribune in 1936 doesn’t include anyone who was stabbed. He did have several former associates killed, some for stealing from him, but they were almost all shot. So although the stories of Capone having hallucinatory conversations with people he’d had killed are based on family accounts, the details of the murder Capone hallucinates in Capone seem to be invented.
[438 words]

[Time 5]
Did Al Capone Disguise Himself as a Lady to Avoid the Police, Then Go on a Fishing Expedition Where He Killed an Alligator With a Shotgun to Get Revenge After It Stole His Fish?

Probably not! He loved fishing, and according to Bair, his mental condition caused him to fixate on an upcoming fishing trip to Wisconsin in 1941 with “the joy of a boy being told he was about to get the treat of his dreams.” As late as 1945, he was still taking fishing trips on his boat, the Sonny & Ralphie, but his condition was such that he wasn’t allowed to go alone.

OK, but Did Al Capone Hallucinate Disguising Himself as a Lady to Avoid the Police, Then Hallucinate Going on a Fishing Expedition Where He Hallucinated Killing an Alligator With a Shotgun?

Uh, sure.

Did a Diaper-Clad Al Capone Shoot Up His Own House With a Gold-Plated Tommy Gun, Murdering Countless Servants and Henchmen?

Nope. That’d be hard to keep out of the papers! His dementia meant he was prone to violet tantrums, and at one point soon after his release from prison, he attacked his brother John with “physical violence,” but he didn’t commit any mass shootings.

But He Totally Wore Diapers, Though, Right?

Incontinence can be a symptom of late-stage neurosyphilis, but the historical record is inconclusive.

Did Al Capone Really Hide $10 Million and Then Forget Where He Hid It?

Rumors of hidden Capone treasure were around long before Geraldo opened his vault. But there is no evidence that the FBI or Capone himself ever believed this.

Are You Sure You Don’t Remember Where Al Capone Hid His Money?

Remember? What are you talking about?

Where’s the Money, Al? Where Did You Hide the Fuckin’ Money?

I don’t remember! I can’t remember! Ma, chi ti ha mandato? Chi cazzo sei?

Oh, So You’re Gonna Play It That Way, Are You?

Louis Armstrong? You? Here? How?

Stab! Stab stab stab stab stab! Stab stab, stab stab stab stab, stab. STAB!

Oh, you better believe I’m going to haunt you for this.
[348 words]

Source: movies

Bad Education’s Young Hero Belongs in the Fictional Journalist Hall of Fame

MAY 08, 2020

[Time 6]
Reviews of Bad Education, the movie starring Hugh Jackman that recently premiered on HBO, have pointed out that the film is more than just the story of school administrators who fleeced a Long Island district for millions: It’s also an indictment of the American education system and its poisonous focus on prestige and test scores above all else. Don’t get me wrong—they’re correct. But I don’t want another important aspect of the movie to be forgotten while everyone is busy indicting education in America: Bad Education is also a great journalism movie.

No respectable journalism movie would be complete without a scrappy reporter, and in Bad Education, that role is filled by Rachel Bhargava, played charmingly and with an often-furrowed brow by Geraldine Viswanathan. The Roslyn High School student who eventually exposes the superintendent for embezzling is still a newbie at the school newspaper when we meet her. Because of her lack of experience, she’s originally assigned the seemingly boring job of writing about the district’s plan to build a “skywalk,” a fancy-sounding bridge that will connect the high school from end to end—and cost millions of dollars. Rachel’s reporting gets off to an inauspicious start when she tells superintendent Frank Tassone (Jackman), mid-interview, that the article is just a puff piece. Tassone doesn’t know he’s dooming himself when he encourages Rachel to think bigger, because a real journalist ought to be able to turn any assignment into a story. Rachel takes his advice.

When we next see Rachel, she’s interviewing Pam Gluckin (Allison Janney), an administrator who works under Tassone, and who, unbeknownst to Rachel at the time, is his accomplice in secretly charging lavish personal expenses to the district. Rachel inquires about the contractors who were in the running to work on the skywalk, and Pam bristles at her nosiness. Watching this, it was hard not to think of the times sources have reacted the same way to my questions. Gluckin thinks she can get one over on Rachel and offers her a canned quote instead of answers, but Rachel stands her ground and asks again about those bids. It’s classic “follow the money” stuff. Rachel may be a rookie, but she displays a real knack for journalism. She’s persistent and doesn’t let a source intimidate her, but she does use the source’s underestimation of her to her advantage.
[393 words]

[Time 7]
When Rachel brings her reporting to the editor of the newspaper, she is dismayed to find that he, too, doubts her new angle. On a desktop computer that’s open to page layout software that will look familiar to anyone who worked on a student paper in the ’00s, he rewrites her hard-hitting headline into something bland and inoffensive. It’s an educational glimpse behind the scenes: Editors aren’t always right, sometimes reporters have to defy the higher-ups to follow their instincts (Ahem. Hi editors!), and reporters are often not the ones writing the headlines.

As Rachel continues to be drawn more deeply into the story, we see her enlisting the help of her father to make calls, using baked goods to get on sources’ good sides, knocking on doors: This is good old-fashioned shoe leather, people. Despite threats from Tassone and pressure from that editor who doesn’t want to upset the powers that be, Rachel holds firm, and by the end of the movie her story lands on the Hilltop Beacon’s front page. Tassone and Gluckin are toast, and the movie’s final shot of Rachel has her sitting behind a desk in the newspaper room that bears the nameplate “editor-in-chief.”

We’ve seen slick portrayals of journalists before, but one thing that’s great about Viswanathan’s performance is the way she plays Rachel as a kind of slightly awkward every-teenager. She’s not a preternaturally skilled professional in the body of a 16-year-old but a kid who stumbles onto a good story and is willing to work hard to figure it out. Wearing an early-2000s wardrobe of mall-obtained overalls, hoodies, striped tops, and a green Jansport, she’s not aspirationally dressed like a character on Gossip Girl. Instead, she’s the high school equivalent of Rachel McAdams’ dowdified, khakis-wearing reporter in Spotlight. I for one would love if this dorky Long Island teenager became a cult figure. Viswanathan’s friends are doing their part to make this a reality: On Twitter, she posted a photo of a Zoom call where a few of them surprised her by dressing up as Rachel.
[345 words]

[Time 8]
I would be remiss not to mention that, though Bad Education is based on a true story, the real-life version of the school newspaper’s part in Tassone’s fall from grace isn’t quite as dramatic. The Hilltop Beacon was early to the story, but the students didn’t stumble upon it; instead they followed up on tips they’d received about an already-brewing scandal within the administration. This is opposed to the more proactive painstaking investigative reporting Rachel does in the movie. And the character of Rachel herself is, as screenwriter Mike Makowsky put it, “part composite, part invention,” though her story most closely resembles that of Rebekah Rombom, who was co-editor of the Beacon during the period in which the film is set. She told the Island Now, a publication based in Long Island, that she spoke to Viswanathan as well as Makowsky about her experience.

I don’t think either of those caveats should make Rachel any less inspirational, though. Either way, Tassone feared the bad press the story would bring, and whether from the school newspaper or professional outfits, bad press is exactly what he got. The system worked. Besides, scores of the most famous movie journalists were whole cloth inventions, as are many of our favorite fictional characters, and that doesn’t mean we can’t admire them.

Cheering on Rachel as she stands up to older students, school administrators, and the secret lovers and shell companies she encounters along the way is both fun and civic-minded. She’s an exemplar of how journalism, at its best, can act as a watchdog for the public’s interest, rooting out corruption and holding power to account. The movie also makes a strong argument for supporting local journalism, which happens to be in crisis right now. We would all be wise to look at the Hilltop Beacon as, well, a beacon. Personally, I know that next time I’m struggling with a story, I’m going to ask myself: “What would Rachel Bhargava do?”
[326 words]

Source: Culture

Part III: Obstacle

“Michael Kohlhaas,” the Book That Made the Novel Modern

Dustin Illingworth
May 20, 2020

[Paraphrase 9]
“Michael Kohlhaas,” an 1810 novella by the German poet and dramatist Heinrich von Kleist, is a work of almost total calamity. Its speed and cataclysmic force are palpable from the opening paragraph:

In the middle of the 16th century there lived on the banks of the Havel a horse dealer by the name of Michael Kohlhaas, son of a schoolmaster, at once one of the most righteous and appalling individuals of his time. Until his thirtieth year, this unusual man would have been accounted the very model of a good citizen. In the village that still bears his name, he owned a farm that provided him with a comfortable living; the children his wife gave him he brought up in the fear of God, to be hardworking and loyal; there was not one among his neighbors who hadn’t benefited from his charity and his fair dealing; in sum, the world would have blessed his memory, if he hadn’t followed one of his virtues to excess. His sense of justice led him to robbery and murder.

The narrative that follows, in which the eponymous hero seeks redress over a minor infraction, is both satisfyingly atavistic and indelibly modern. Loosely based on the life of a sixteenth-century merchant, the book’s initial, indiscriminate violence—thieving, arson, maiming, execution—gives way, in its second half, to cosmic inscrutability. The horse-dealer’s implacable quest for justice is stymied by the opacity of the law. (That the novella was beloved by Franz Kafka is perhaps unsurprising. “This is a story I read with true piety,” he wrote to his soon-to-be fiancée, Felice Bauer, in 1913.) Its bottomless ambiguity and sense of futility anticipate the modern novel by nearly a century; not only Kafka but writers as disparate as Samuel Beckett, Thomas Bernhard, Witold Gombrowicz, and J. M. Coetzee are unimaginable without Kleist’s example.

His life, like much of his work, was brief and dramatic. Born the eldest of eight children in Frankfurt an der Oder, Kleist became a member of the Potsdam Guard Regiment at fourteen; fought Napoleon; briefly studied law; experienced a “Kant crisis,” in which he despaired of reason; wandered restlessly through Paris and Switzerland; broke off his engagement to a German pastellist; was arrested by the French as a possible spy; suffered a nervous breakdown; and killed himself, at thirty-four, on the shore of the Wannsee, in a suicide pact with a terminally ill friend. His work often eulogized European high culture, which could provoke the opprobrium of its elder statesmen. (Goethe, whom Kleist both admired and despised, called him a “Nordic phantom of acrimony and hypochondria.”) He was attracted to a life of regimented, almost militaristic order, even as psychological disarray engulfed him. This conflict lends Kleist’s œuvre its remarkable, even shocking, sense of paradox and turmoil.

“Michael Kohlhaas,” which was recently reissued by New Directions in a sparkling new translation from Michael Hofmann, makes for a fine entry point into Kleist’s passionate, grotesque, hysterical, and deeply strange body of work. It begins, as it ends, in bureaucratic entanglement. Kohlhaas, en route to a Leipzig marketplace, is stopped by a castellan in the employ of the knight Wenzel von Tronka, who demands to see a travel permit. Lacking the necessary visa, Kohlhaas is coerced into leaving two of his finest horses as collateral, along with his trusty groom to watch over them. While passing through Dresden, he learns from a government notary that the permit is in fact a fairy tale. As so often occurs in “Michael Kohlhaas,” the law is invoked only to be disfigured by human cupidity. The castellan is merely an avatar, the first of several figures whose knowledge of the law allows them to shape or pervert it for private aims. Kleist introduces the self-serving technocratic interpreter to modern literature.

Extraordinary cruelties beset Kohlhaas in rapid succession. He returns to find his horses near collapse, and his groom badly beaten. His demands for redress are laughed off by Tronka and his retinue. In a ghastly turn, his beloved wife is fatally injured while bringing his plea before the sovereign. (An overzealous guard crushes her sternum.) Kleist offers little psychological garnish to this great feast of suffering. His hero’s setbacks are relayed with the compression and impassivity of a parable, albeit one whose moral proves elusive. Kleist comes to inhabit the same terrifying remoteness as Job’s God: pitiless, obscurely motivated, and not above a bit of mockery.

After such rigorous sadism, Kohlhaas wastes no time in dedicating himself to “the business of revenge.” Assembling a band of loyal men, he attacks Tronka’s castle at nightfall, killing everyone he finds and burning the castle to its foundations. When his quarry manages to escape, he proceeds to raid outlying communities, burn houses and churches, and rout military detachments sent to quell his rebellion. His amnesty is eventually brokered by none other than Martin Luther. (Their improbable, clandestine tête-à-tête is a dialectical wonder. “Mad, baffling, and appalling man,” Luther calls him.) While Kohlhaas awaits trial in Dresden, a trap is set with a letter from one of his marauders. He is given up as a traitor, and promptly sentenced to be drawn and quartered.

Kohlhaas is the archetype for a particular kind of protagonist: the little man provoked beyond the limit of endurance. The figure is essentially modern, and well represented in fiction and film. We cheer on these ill-used men—Andreas Pum in Joseph Roth’s novel “Rebellion,” say, or William Foster in Joel Schumacher’s film “Falling Down”—as they rampage fruitlessly against the societies that brutalized them. Martyrs or spiritual terrorists, their lawlessness affords them a clarity denied the average citizen. Their moral authority precisely parallels the severity of their transgression. These knights of immoderation are all the horse-dealer’s heirs.

The ecstatic violence that such men commit is one of Kleist’s central themes. But the indulgence of his novella—scenes of blasphemy, defenestration, disaster, augury—is offset by the Latinate solidity of his prose. It is a stony eminence, slab-like and somehow airtight despite its continued accretion of character and event. Kleist confounds us by appraising his fevers with the exactness of a logician. “The war I am waging against the bulk of mankind is sinful,” Kohlhaas tells Luther, “were it not that I am, as you assure me, cast out from it.” Kleist erects gorgeous, formal structures in which to house the demons that plague him. He locates a profound mystery in the hearts of men and the institutions that guide them, something inexorable, unyielding, and ultimately destructive.

Kohlhaas, determined to set the world to rights, seeks clarity within the mystifying apparatus of the courts. They do not represent the law but something like its hardened excrescence, or else a vexing formal discipline, like calculus or ballet. From the first, Kohlhaas is out of his depth. Subject to a dizzying hierarchy of peerage and obscure jurisdiction, justice eludes him at every opportunity. His pleas are interrupted, denied, or ignored, due to well-placed adversaries. Smelling blood in the water, Tronka and his retinue begin “with cunning and obstructive arguments to deny their guilt altogether.” Infinite barriers of paper and plausibility accumulate. Kohlhaas is punished, finally, not for his crimes but for his novitiate status.

Kleist’s book is a fable of civic disenchantment. The pathos one feels for Kohlhaas stems in part from his steadfast belief in the rule of law, even as he proves himself unequal to its cryptic prerequisites. For all his honor, he turns out to be something of a principled rube, easy prey for the Dresden initiates. In the courts, righteousness matters less than sophistication. The horse-dealer comes to embody a nascent feature of the middle class: fear and confusion before the gates of administration. The chilly radiance of this vision lights the way to Kafka.

Kleist was often ready to concede happy—or happy-seeming—endings: the second marriage for the protagonist of “The Marquise of O,” for instance, or the dream-crowning of the title character in “The Prince of Homburg.” The horse-dealer’s own dénouement is ambiguous at best. On his way to be executed, Kohlhaas unexpectedly finds his lawyer in the public square. He is informed that his original suit was at last heard in court. Tronka has returned both horses “shining with health.” The disgraced knight has also been given a two-year prison sentence. Kohlhaas falls to his knees, “hands crossed over his chest, quite overcome by feeling.” His fanatical quest complete, there is nothing left for our hero but to die.

That judicial murder can be presented as a form of triumph is another of Kleist’s many sleights of hand. (His spectral laughter seems to follow Kohlhaas up the scaffold.) What to make, finally, of such a roaring avalanche of passion, crime, and consequence? “Michael Kohlhaas” could be called a pathology of obsession, or a juridical riddle, or even a kind of magnificent taunt, though none of these is right, or right enough. One must merely read it, and then read it again, staggered by its sheer acceleration, its furious savagery, its vertiginous authority, its exquisite prolongment of closure as event follows improbable event. Kohlhaas is one of literature’s eternal characters because he outpaces any interpretive framework. His indomitable reality exceeds our own. In this greatest of German literary works, death itself bows before the consummation of justice: “His deepest wish on earth had been satisfied.”
[1561 words]

Source: book


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发表于 2020-5-20 23:33:32 发自手机 Web 版 | 显示全部楼层
发表于 2020-5-21 01:34:02 发自手机 Web 版 | 显示全部楼层
T2: 2'31
T3: 2'08
T4: 2'22
T5: 1'27
发表于 2020-5-21 02:49:32 | 显示全部楼层
T2 [368 words] 2‘37
T3 [356 words] 2’40
T4 [438 words] 2‘54
T5 [348 words] 1’36
 楼主| 发表于 2020-5-21 07:51:45 | 显示全部楼层
T2: 3'02
T3: 2'27
T4: 3'20
T5: 3'39
T6: 2'24
T7: 2'14
发表于 2020-5-21 08:11:55 | 显示全部楼层
T2 2'16''
T3 2'24''
T4 2'43''
T5 2'31''
T6 2'46''
T7 2'49''
T8 2'23''
T9 13'21''
发表于 2020-5-21 13:42:00 | 显示全部楼层
Though traffic is way down because of lock down, air pollution doesn’t decline as large as previously prediction. It means that having a healthier air needs more than just reducing driving. Study shows that although the traffic declines by nearly 40%, the pollutant ozone, which is bad for people’s health, only decreases by 15% or less. There are some opportunities for researchers to do further analysis about where does air pollution come from due to the pandemic.


The whole passage tells us the story of the Movie, “Bad Education”, and the author’s feeling about this film. Reviews of the film have pointed out that the film not just only a story about school administrators embezzled money but also an indictment of the American education system and its poisonous focus on prestige and test scores above all else. Then the author simply introduces the whole story which is mainly about how the main role, the reporter Rachel, reveals the darkness behind the incident by persistent struggle. However, what Rachel’s done gives us a lesson to be a good journalism.

Fleece:敲诈 to take someone’s money dishonestly
Indictment:控诉 a reason for giving blame
It’s also an indictment of the American education system and its poisonous focus on prestige and test scores above all else
Embezzle:to secretly take money that is in your care or that belongs to an organization or business you work for  /ɪm'bez(ə)l/
Eg. She embezzled thousands of dollars from the charity
Newbie: novice。Rookie
Inauspicious: showing signs that sth will not be successful or positive /ɪnɔː'spɪʃəs/
She’s persistent and doesn’t let a source intimidate(恐吓frighten) her, but she does use the source’s underestimation of her to her advantage.
Cult figure: 流行偶像,
Scrappy: not organized 散乱的,好斗的
Enlist the help:求助
We’ve got to enlist some people to help prepare the food
Root out corruption and hold power to account

“Michael Kohlhaas,” the book that made the novel modern

-I’ve never read this novella,”Michael Kohlhass”, before. A little hard for me to read this article.-
The whole passage gives an introduction about Kleist and his iconic work, “Michael Kohlhass”. The story is a legendary tragedy about the eponymous hero who was at first a successful businessman and lived a peaceful life but at last chose to revenge on the Tronka by attacking Tronka’s castle for fighting for justice for his being unfairly treated , his groom’s being badly beaten and his wife’s fatally injured. He was sentenced to die at last but he is regarded as a modern figure who bravely against the unfair reality. The character Kleist created is beyond classical and also reflects his indictment of the reality and the war he experienced to a degree.

Eponymous: 同名的 /iˈpɔniməs/
Palpable: 可察觉的
Indomitable : describes someone strong, brave, determined and difficult to defeat or frighten
Fanatical quest 狂热的寻找
His fanatical quest complete, there is nothing left for our hero but to die
Sleight of hand:熟练手法
Kohlhass is one of literature’s eternal characters because he outpaces any interpretive framework
发表于 2020-5-21 16:57:48 | 显示全部楼层
[Time 2]        2‘12
[Time 3]        2‘09
[Time 4]        2‘52
[Time 5]        1‘41
[Time 6]        2‘38
[Time 7]        2‘08
[Time 8]        1‘56
[Paraphrase 9]        10‘38
发表于 2020-5-21 20:53:19 | 显示全部楼层
Time2  5‘54 (368words)  
Time 3:  4'56(356words)
Time4:  5'37(438words)
Time5:4'25   (348words)
candid:saying what you think openly and honestly,not hiding you thoughts.
dementia:a serious mental disorder caused by brain disease or injury, that affects the ability to think ,remember and behave normally
syndicate:a group of people or companies who work together and help each other in order to achieve a particular aim.
syphilis: a disease that gets worse over a period of time, spreading from the sexual organs to the skin, bones, muscles and brain. It is caught by having sex with an infected person.
发表于 2020-5-21 22:08:46 | 显示全部楼层
time 2: 1‘54“
time 3: 2‘08“
time 4: 1‘42“
time 5: 2’08”
time 6: 1’18”
time 7:1‘40“
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