TEXT
I am in a car
park in Leeds when I tell my husband I don’t want to be married to him any
more. David isn’t even in the car park with me. He’s at home, looking after
the kids, and I have only called him to remind him that he should write a note
for Molly’s class teacher. The other bit just sort of … slips out. This is a
mistake, obviously. Even though I am apparently, and to my immense surprise, the
kind of person who tells her husband that she doesn’t want to be married to
him any more, I really didn’t think that I was the kind of person to say so in
a car park, on a mobile phone. That particular self-assessment will now have to
be revised, clearly. I can describe myself as the kind of person who doesn’t
forget names, for example, because I have remembered names thousands of times
and forgotten them only once or twice. But for the majority of people,
marriage-ending conversations happen only once, if at all. If you choose to
conduct yours on a mobile phone, in a Leeds car park, then you cannot really
claim that it is unrepresentative, in the same way that Lee Harvey Oswald
couldn’t really claim that shooting presidents wasn’t like him at all.
Sometimes we have to be judged on our one-offs.
Later
in the hotel room, when I can’t sleep – and that is some sort of consolation,
because even though I have turned into the woman who ends marriages in a car
park, at least I have the decency to toss and turn afterwards – I retrace the
conversation in my head, in as much detail as I can manage, trying to work out
how we’d got from there (Molly’s dental appointment) to here (imminent
divorce) in three minutes. Ten, anyway. Which
turns into an endless, three-in-the-morning brood about how we’d got from
there (meeting at a college dance in 1976) to here (imminent divorce) in
twenty-four years.
To tell you
the truth, the second part of this self-reflection only takes so long because
twenty-four years is a long time, and there are loads of bits that come unbidden
into your head, little narrative details, that don’t really have to do much
with the story. If my thoughts about our marriage had been turned into a film,
the critics would say that it was all padding, no plot, and that it could be
summarized thus: two people fall in love, have kids, start arguing, get fat and
grumpy (him) and bored and desperate and grumpy (her) and split up. I wouldn’t
argue with the synopsis. We’re are nothing special.
The phone
call, though … I keep missing the link, the point where it turned from a
relatively harmonious and genuinely banal chat about minor domestic arrangements
into this cataclysmic, end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it moment. I can remember the
beginning of it, almost word for word:
Me: ‘Hiya.’
Him: ‘Hello. How’s it going?’
Me: ‘Yeah, fine. Kids all right?’
Him: ‘Yeah. Molly’s here watching TV, Tom’s round at Jamie’s.’
Me: ‘I just phoned to say that you’ve got to write a note for Molly
to take in to school tomorrow. About the
dentist’s.’
See?
See? It can’t be done, you’d think, not from here. But you’d be wrong,
because we did it. I’m almost sure that the first leap was made here, at this
point; the way I remember it now, there was a pause, an ominous silence, at the
other end of the line. And then I said something like ‘What?’ and he said
‘Nothing’. And I said ‘What?’ again and he said ‘Nothing’ again
except he clearly wasn’t baffled or amused by my question, just tetchy, which
means, does it not, that you have to plough on. So I ploughed on.
‘Come on.’
‘No.’
‘Come on.’
‘No. What you said.’
‘What did I say?’
‘About just phoning to remind me about Molly’s note.’
‘What’s wrong with that?’
‘It’d be nice if you just phoned for some other reason. You know, to
say hello. To see how your husband and your
children are.’
‘Oh, David.’
‘What, “Oh David”?’
‘That was the first thing I asked. “How are the kids?”’
‘Yeah. OK. “How are the kids?” Not, you know, “How are you?”’
You
don’t get conversations like this when things are going well. It is not
difficult to imagine that in other, better relationships, a phone call that
began in this way would not and could not lead to talk of divorce. In better
relationships you could sail right through the dentist part and move on to other
topics. David and I, however … this is not our situation, not any more. Phone
calls like ours only happen when you’ve spent several years hurting and being
hurt, until every word you utter or hear becomes coded and loaded, as
complicated and full of subtext as a bleak and brilliant play. […]
Opening
passage, taken from Nick Hornby’s latest novel
How to be Good
published in 2001
WORKSHEET
I.
Questions on the text: Read
all the questions first, then answer them in the given order. Use your own
words as far as
is appropriate. All
quotations must be marked as such (giving the line or lines).
1)
What does the reader learn about the protagonist’s relationship with her
husband, David? (ll. 1 – 22) 20 points
2)
What is the effect Nick Hornby achieves by including the fateful phone call? (ll.
23 – 54) 20
points
3)
Analyse the narrative
perspective, the mode of presentation and the tone of
the opening passage of Nick Hornby’s latest
novel How to be Good. Give evidence from the text.
20 points
II.
Essay: Choose
one of
the following topics and write about 150 words. Please, count your words at the
end andmake
sure that you don’t write more than 160 words !
30
points
1)
The relationship between man and woman has often been dealt with in literature.
Choose one work by an English-speaking author and show how this topic is treated.
(LK Abitur 2000 !)
2)
Parents –still role models for young people? (LK Abitur 1999)
3)
Does marriage still have a chance today? (LK Abitur 1998)
4)
Parents should not interfere in their children’s choice of partner. Discuss. (LK
Abitur 1998)
5)
Which should come first – personal fulfilment or responsibility towards
one’s family? (gk Abitur 2000)
6)
Staying single – a desirable way of life? (gk Abitur 1996)
7)
The English proverb Marry in haste, repent at leisure! is the exact
opposite of the German saying Früh gefreit nie
bereut. Which
of these proverbs seems more appropriate to you?
III.
Landeskunde: In
the speech Tony Blair delivered outside Number Ten Downing Street on the morning
after his landslide victory he said: “The purpose of each and every change
that we make must be this, to create a
society which is a genuine, open, meritocratic nation.” Pick two such
changes,
commenting on the”meritocratic” aspect.
10 points
[IV.
Vocabulary: What’s
the English? Taken
from word lists 10 – 12,
“Through
the Tunnel”, “About a Boy”, Joy of Revision 1
Please,
write the answers on the first page of your
“Schulaufgabenblatt”,
using one line per answer.
20x1/2 = 10 points 1) Wahlkreis; 2) Oberschenkel;
3) schmuddelig, ungepflegt; 4) belästigen, plagen; 5) vom
Weg abkommen, streunen; 6) Ernährer (der Familie);
7) Streikbrecher (not “strikebreaker”); 8) Abendkasse;
9) Scheiterhaufen; 10) Ansatz (=
wie man z.B. an ein
Thema herangeht etc.); 11) aussetzen (z.B. einer Gefahr,
Wind und Wetter); 12)
Streikposten; 13) geschweige denn;
14) zerknirscht; 15) schüchtern, gehemmt; 16) verheerend,
vernichtend (not “destroying“); 17) Falltüre; 18) politischer
Berater (buzz word !); 19) Wende, Umschwung; 20) nahtlos;]
[The
vocabulary part is, of course, of NO INTEREST to those who did not attend
LKE3,12,2 2000/20002! Still, you might want to test t your "word
power". Who knows, a word like "zerknirscht", "politischer
Berater" or "Scheiterhaufen" might come in useful at some time,
particularly for a contrite spin doctor on a pyre !!!]
THE BOTTOM LINE THE BOTTOM LINE THE BOTTOM LINE THE BOTTOM LINE