In the 1980s there was a proliferation of poetry collections, short stories, and novels published by women of Latin American descent in the United States. By the end of the decade, another genre of U.S. Latina writing, the autobiography, also came into prominence with the publication of three notable autobiographical collections: Loving in the War Years: Lo Que Nunca Pasó Por Sus Labios, by Cherríe Moraga; Getting Home Alive, by Aurora Levins Morales and Rosario Morales; and Borderlands/ La Frontera, by Gloria Anzaldúa.
These collections are innovative at many levels. They confront traditional linguistic boundaries by using a mix of English and Spanish, and they each address the politics of multiple cultural identities by exploring the interrelationships among such factors as ethnicity, gender, and language. This effort manifests itself in the generically mixed structure of these works, which combine essays, sketches, short stories, poems, and journal entries without, for the most part, giving preference to any of these modes of presentation.br> In Borderlands/La Frontera, Anzaldúa presents her personal history and the history of the Mexican American community to which she belongs by juxtaposing narrative sequences and poetry. Moraga’s Loving in the War Years is likewise characterized by a mixture of genres, and, as she states in her introduction, the events in her life story are not arranged chronologically, but rather in terms of her political development. According to one literary critic who specializes in the genre of autobiography, this departure from chronological ordering represents an important difference between autobiographies written by women and those traditionally written by men. Getting Home Alive departs even further from the conventions typical of autobiography by bringing together the voices of two people, a mother and her daughter, each of whom authors a portion of the text. The narratives and poems of each author are not assigned to separate sections of the text, but rather are woven together, with a piece by one sometimes commenting on a piece by the other. While this ordering may seem fragmentary and confusing, it is in fact a fully intentional and carefully designed experiment with literary structure. In a sense, this mixing of structures parallels the content of these autobiographies: the writers employ multigeneric and multivocal forms to express the complexities inherent in the formation of their identities.
The 1980s postmodernist wave introduced several key features mentioned in the passage, aligning with the options provided. Firstly, this era resisted Frye’s fixing of meaning by suggesting that the text is fluid. This concept focuses on the evolving nature of texts and the varied interpretations they can have, reflecting a fluid, dynamic quality consistent with postmodernist literature. Secondly, the passage indicates that there was an engagement in the deconstruction of established norms, which aligns with the mentioned topic of 'deconstructing Anatomy of Deconstruction'. Finally, there was an underlying critique against the canonization of white male dominated literature, reflecting the idea that postmodernism sought to challenge such traditional literary standards. Therefore, the characteristics discussed in the passage align with all the options provided:
Therefore, the correct feature of the 1980s postmodernist wave, as mentioned, incorporates all of the above elements, supporting the correct answer: All of the above.
The passage discusses various literary forms and innovations, particularly those brought to prominence by Latina women in the United States during the 1980s. It touches on the blending of different genres and the departure from traditional structures, particularly in autobiographies. Regarding the specific question, the passage doesn't directly reference romance, comedy, tragedy, and irony. However, it implies that these elements represent fundamental storytelling types or structures.
Given the options, let's evaluate:
Common symbols that populate all of literature - The passage doesn't suggest that romance, comedy, tragedy, and irony are symbols present throughout all literature.
The four essential moulds into which every story could be fit - This option aligns with the idea of fundamental storytelling types that can categorize stories, echoing the passage's theme of structuring and categorizing literature in innovative ways.
Atwood’s interpretation of ancient myths that abound in contemporary novels - The passage does not discuss Atwood or her interpretations of myths.
Jungian archetypes that perpetuate themselves in canonical texts - While Jungian archetypes can be relevant, the passage doesn't directly connect these elements to Jungian theory or canonical texts.
Therefore, the most fitting answer is that romance, comedy, tragedy, and irony are the four essential moulds into which every story could be fit.
The question asks for the meaning of "soluble" in the context of the passage. To determine this, we need to understand the themes and descriptions given in the passage.
The passage discusses the innovative and experimental nature of U.S. Latina autobiographies from the 1980s, focusing on how these works transcend traditional boundaries by integrating multiple languages and genres. It reflects on the blended and multifaceted nature of the autobiographies, where different literary forms like essays, poems, and narratives are mixed in a non-traditional, non-chronological order.
Based on this, "soluble" in the context refers to something capable of being dissolved or combined into a single entity, highlighting the merging of genres and cultural identities. Therefore, the term "polysemic," which means having multiple meanings or interpretations, fits perfectly with the context of conveying complex cultural and identity issues through a blend of narrative forms.
Correct answer: polysemic


When people who are talking don’t share the same culture, knowledge, values, and assumptions, mutual understanding can be especially difficult. Such understanding is possible through the negotiation of meaning. To negotiate meaning with someone, you have to become aware of and respect both the differences in your backgrounds and when these differences are important. You need enough diversity of cultural and personal experience to be aware that divergent world views exist and what they might be like. You also need the flexibility in world view, and a generous tolerance for mistakes, as well as a talent for finding the right metaphor to communicate the relevant parts of unshared experiences or to highlight the shared experiences while demphasizing the others. Metaphorical imagination is a crucial skill in creating rapport and in communicating the nature of unshared experience. This skill consists, in large measure, of the ability to bend your world view and adjust the way you categorize your experiences. Problems of mutual understanding are not exotic; they arise in all extended conversations where understanding is important.
When it really counts, meaning is almost never communicated according to the CONDUIT metaphor, that is, where one person transmits a fixed, clear proposition to another by means of expressions in a common language, where both parties have all the relevant common knowledge, assumptions, values, etc. When the chips are down, meaning is negotiated: you slowly figure out what you have in common, what it is safe to talk about, how you can communicate unshared experience or create a shared vision. With enough flexibility in bending your world view and with luck and charity, you may achieve some mutual understanding.
Communication theories based on the CONDUIT metaphor turn from the pathetic to the evil when they are applied indiscriminately on a large scale, say, in government surveillance or computerized files. There, what is most crucial for real understanding is almost never included, and it is assumed that the words in the file have meaning in themselves—disembodied, objective, understandable meaning. When a society lives by the CONDUITmetaphor on a large scale, misunderstanding, persecution, and much worse are the likely products.
Later, I realized that reviewing the history of nuclear physics served another purpose as well: It gave the lie to the naive belief that the physicists could have come together when nuclear fission was discovered (in Nazi Germany!) and agreed to keep the discovery a secret, thereby sparing humanity such a burden. No. Given the development of nuclear physics up to 1938, development that physicists throughout the world pursued in all innocence of any intention of finding the engine of a new weapon of mass destruction—only one of them, the remarkable Hungarian physicist Leo Szilard, took that possibility seriously—the discovery of nuclear fission was inevitable. To stop it, you would have had to stop physics. If German scientists hadn’t made the discovery when they did, French, American, Russian, Italian, or Danish scientists would have done so, almost certainly within days or weeks. They were all working at the same cutting edge, trying to understand the strange results of a simple experiment bombarding uranium with neutrons. Here was no Faustian bargain, as movie directors and other naifs still find it intellectually challenging to imagine. Here was no evil machinery that the noble scientists might hide from the problems and the generals. To the contrary, there was a high insight into how the world works, an energetic reaction, older than the earth, that science had finally devised the instruments and arrangements to coart forth. “Make it seem inevitable,” Louis Pasteur used to advise his students when they prepared to write up their discoveries. But it was. To wish that it might have been ignored or suppressed is barbarous. “Knowledge,” Niels Bohr once noted, “is itself the basis for civilization.” You cannot have the one without the other; the one depends upon the other. Nor can you have only benevolent knowledge; the scientific method doesn’t filter for benevolence. Knowledge has consequences, not always intended, not always comfortable, but always welcome. The earth revolves around the sun, not the sun around the earth. “It is a profound and necessary truth,” Robert Oppenheimer would say, “that the deep things in science are not found because they are useful; they are found because it was possible to find them.”
...Bohr proposed once that the goal of science is not universal truth. Rather, he argued, the modest but relentless goal of science is “the gradual removal of prejudices.” The discovery that the earth revolves around the sun has gradually removed the prejudice that the earth is the center of the universe. The discovery of microbes is gradually removing the prejudice that disease is a punishment from God. The discovery of evolution is gradually removing the prejudice that Homo sapiens is a separate and special creation.
For any natural number $k$, let $a_k = 3^k$. The smallest natural number $m$ for which \[ (a_1)^1 \times (a_2)^2 \times \dots \times (a_{20})^{20} \;<\; a_{21} \times a_{22} \times \dots \times a_{20+m} \] is: