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Example Question #111 : Application
Adapted from "William Dean Howells" published in The Nebraska State Journal by Willa Cather (July 14, 1895)
Certainly now in his old age Mr. Howells is selecting queer titles for his books. A while ago we had that feeble tale, The Coast of Bohemia, and now we have My Literary Passions. “Passions,” literary or otherwise, were never Mr. Howells’ forte and surely no man could be further from even the coast of Bohemia.
Apropos of My Literary Passions, which has so long strung out in The Ladies’ Home Journal along with those thrilling articles about how Henry Ward Beecher tied his necktie and what kind of coffee Mrs. Hall Cain likes, why did Mr. Howells write it? Doesn’t Mr. Howells know that at one time or another everyone raves over Don Quixote, imitates Heine, worships Tourgueneff and calls Tolstoy a prophet? Does Mr. Howells think that no one but he ever had youth and enthusiasm and aspirations? Doesn’t he know that the only thing that makes the world worth living in at all is that once, when we are young, we all have that great love for books and impersonal things, all reverence and dream? We have all known the time when Porthos, Athos and d’Artagnan were vastly more real and important to us than the folks who lived next door. We have all dwelt in that country where Anna Karenina and the Levins were the only people who mattered much. We have all known that intoxicating period when we thought we “understood life,” because we had read Daudet, Zola and Guy de Maupassant, and like Mr. Howells we all looked back rather fondly upon the time when we believed that books were the truth and art was all. After a while books grow matter of fact like everything else and we always think enviously of the days when they were new and wonderful and strange. That’s a part of existence. We lose our first keen relish for literature just as we lose it for ice cream and confectionery. The taste grows older, wiser and more subdued. We would all wear out of very enthusiasm if it did not. But why should Mr. Howells tell the world this common experience in detail as though it were his and his alone? He might as well write a detailed account of how he had the measles and the whooping cough. It was all right and proper for Mr. Howells to like Heine and Hugo, but, in the words of the circus clown, “We’ve all been there."
Which of the following criticisms could most reasonably be leveled against the author?
She employs personal insults as part of an intellectual argument.
She fails to grasp the real meaning of Howells’ work.
She is overly concerned with how her audience compares her own writing to that of Howells.
She is overly arrogant and aggressive in her condemnation.
She overgeneralizes about people’s literary and youthful experiences.
She overgeneralizes about people’s literary and youthful experiences.
Throughout the passage, the author tends to talk about the experiences of reading and internalizing literature as a youth as if they are the same for everyone. Therefore, she could most reasonably be criticized for overgeneralizing about people’s literary and youthful experiences. The following excerpts demonstrate this: “Doesn’t Mr. Howells know that at one time or another everyone raves over Don Quixote, imitates Heine, worships Tourgueneff and calls Tolstoi a prophet?”; “ . . . when we are young, we all have that great love for books and impersonal things . . .”; “We have all known that intoxicating period when we thought we 'understood life,' because we had read Daudet, Zola and Guy de Maupassant, and like Mr. Howells we all looked back rather fondly upon the time when we believed that books were the truth and art was all.” You could argue that the author ought to be criticized for her arrogance and aggressive condemnation, or that she employs personal insults, but neither of these answer choices has as much evidence in the text.
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