When I was fifteen, I announced to my English class that I was going to write my own books. Half the students smiled unkindly,  36  nearly fell out of their chairs laughing. “Don’t be  37 , only geniuses can become writers,” the English teacher said, “And you are getting a D this term.” I was so ashamed I burst into  38 . That night I wrote a short sad poem about broken dreams and mailed it to the newspaper. To my  39 , they published it and sent me two dollars. I was a published and paid writer. I showed my teacher and fellow students. They laughed, “Just plain dumb luck,” the teacher said. I  40  success. I’d sold the first thing I’d  41  written. That was more than any of them had done and if it was just dumb luck that was fine with me.

     During the next two years I sold dozens of poems and letters. By the time I graduated from high school, I had scrapbooks (剪贴簿)  42  my published works. I never  43  my writing to my teachers, friends or my family  44  because they were dream killers.

I had four children at the time.  45  the children slept, I typed on my ancient typewriter. I wrote what I felt. It took nine months. I chose a  46  and mailed it. A month later I received a contract, an advance on payments, and a request to start  47  another book. Crying Wind, became a best seller, was translated into fifteen languages and sold worldwide. My first book also became  48  reading in native American schools in Canada.

     The  49  year I ever had as a writer I earned two dollars. In my best year I earned 36,000 dollars. People ask what college I  50 , what degrees I had and what qualifications I have to be a writer. The answer is: “None.” I just write. I’m not a genius. I use an electric typewriter that I paid a hundred and twenty nine dollars  51  six years ago. I do all the housework and  52  my writing in a few minutes here and there. I’ve written eight books. To all those who dream of writing, I’m shouting at you: “Yes, you can. Don’t listen to them.” I don’t write right  53  I’ve succeeded. Writing is  54 , it’s fun and anyone can do it.  55 , a little dumb luck doesn’t hurt.

A. other

B. others

C. the other

D. the rest

A. silly

B. curious

C. excited

D. depressed

A. laughter

B. tears

C. song

D. cheers

A. puzzlement

B.disappointment

C. expectation

D. astonishment

A. tasted

B. met

C. accepted

D. considered

A. yet

B. never

C. even

D. ever

A. crowdedwith

B. filled with

C. combined with

D. linked with

A. remembered

B. concluded

C. mentioned

D. described

A. again

B. instead

C. still

D. merely

A. Though

B. Before

C. Until

D. While

A. writer

B. reporter

C. publisher

D. manager

A. working on

B. going on

C. turning on

D. putting on

A. requested

B. required

C. demanded

D. reminded

A. busiest

B. worse

C. worst

D. highest

A. attended

B. took

C. admitted

D. participated

A. out

B. to

C. by

D. for

A. keep

B. fit

C. save

D. hold

A. or

B. so

C. and

D. but

A. easy

B. hard

C. convenient

D. practical

A. On the contrary

B. Of course

C. As a result

D. In this way


I am a writer. I spend a great deal of my time thinking about the power of language—the way it can evoke(唤起) an emotion, a visual image, a complex idea, or a simple truth. Language is the tool of my trade. And I use them all—all the Englishes I grew up with.
Born into a Chinese family that had recently arrived in California, I’ve been giving more thought to the kind of English my mother speaks. Like others, I have described it to people as “broken” English. But feel embarrassed to say that. It has always bothered me that I can think of no way to describe it other than “broken”, as if it were damaged and needed to be fixed, as if it lacked a certain wholeness. I’ve heard other terms used, “limited English,” for example. But they seem just as bad, as if everything is limited, including people’s perceptions(认识)of the limited English speaker.
I know this for a fact, because when I was growing up, my mother’s “limited” English limited my perception of her. I was ashamed of her English. I believed that her English reflected the quality of what she had to say. That is ,because she expressed them imperfectly her thoughts were imperfect. And I had plenty of evidence to support me: the fact that people in department stores, at banks, and at restaurants did not take her seriously, did not give her good service, pretended not to understand her, or even acted as if they did not hear her.
I started writing fiction in 1985. And for reasons I won’t get into today, I began to write stories using all the Englishes I grew up with: the English she used with me, which for lack of a better term might be described as “broken”, and what I imagine to be her translation of her Chinese, her internal(内在的) language, and for that I sought to preserve the essence, but neither an English nor a Chinese structure: I wanted to catch what language ability tests can never show; her intention, her feelings, the rhythms of her speech and the nature of her thoughts.
【小题1】By saying “Language is the tool of my trade”, the author means that ______.

A.she uses English in foreign tradeB.she is fascinated by languages
C.she works as a translatorD.she is a writer by profession
【小题2】The author used to think of her mother’s English as ______.
A.impoliteB.amusing C.imperfectD.practical
【小题3】Which of the following is TRUE according to Paragraph 3?
A.Americans do not understand broken English.
B.The author’s mother was not respected sometimes.
C.The author’ mother had positive influence on her.
D.Broken English always reflects imperfect thoughts.
【小题4】The author gradually realizes her mother’s English is _____.
A.well structured B.in the old style
C.easy to translate D.rich in meaning
【小题5】What is the passage mainly about?
A.The changes of the author’s attitude to her mother’s English.
B.The limitation of the author’s perception of her mother.
C.The author’s misunderstanding of “limited” English.
D.The author’s experiences of using broken English.

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