11 Questões de Língua Inglesa do UERJ 2020

These and other flat-Earth assertions appear on the website of the FES, allegedly the world’s oldest official flat Earth organization, dating to the early 1800s. (l. 16-17) In relation to the fragment above, the pieces of information introduced in the fifth paragraph (l. 18-20) serve the following purpose: (UERJ 2020)

1. A) express doubt
2. B) sign agreement
3. C) provide an explanation
4. D) present a counter-argument

The power of metaphors discusses the use of metaphors in daily life, as well as the text O que nossas metáforas dizem de nós. In the fragment above, the doubt expressed by the researcher can be formulated by the following question: (UERJ 2020)

1. A) How far do these metaphors influence people?
2. B) How come these metaphors influence people?
3. C) How fast did these metaphors influence people?
4. D) How long have these metaphors influenced people?

On a parfois l’impression que se servir des mots pour faire réagir la population n’est qu’une autre forme de mensonge politique. (l. 29-30) Dans le fragment ci-dessus, le pronom on a la valeur de nous. Cette valeur n’est pas observée dans le fragment suivant: (UERJ 2020)

1. A) On sait qu’elles sont utiles pour évoquer des tabous: (l. 1-2)
2. B) On suggère que les gens pensent qu’elle est gouvernée par des forces mystérieuses (l. 10-11)
3. C) on conclut que l’avidité fait partie de la nature humaine. (l. 19)
4. D) on peut construire de nouvelles voies vers une autre direction, (l. 27-28)

Considere os seguintes enunciados extraídos do texto: (1) un instituteur qui, comme elle, se mourait d’impatience (l. 7) (2) Lorsque son mari mourut, (l. 17) A forma pronominal do verbo no imperfeito em (1) e a forma não pronominal no passado simples em (2) produzem efeitos de sentidos. Explicite esses efeitos de sentido em cada enunciado. Explicite esses efeitos de sentido em cada enunciado. (UERJ 2020)

O fragmento de texto a seguir faz parte do romance Americanah, de Chimamanda N. Adichie. Nele, a protagonista, Ifemelu, uma imigrante nigeriana, narra dois episódios de sua vida nos Estados Unidos. Ifemelu decided to stop faking an American accent on a sunlit day in July. It was convincing, the accent. She had perfected, from careful watching of friends and newscasters, but the accent creaked with consciousness, it was an act of will. It took an effort, the twisting of lip, the curling of tongue, the sentences starting with “So”. If she were in a panic, or terrified, she would not remember how to produce those American sounds. And so she resolved to stop, on that summer day. On that July morning, her weekend bag already packed for Massachusetts, she was making scrambled eggs when the phone rang. It was a telemarketer, a young, male American who was offering better long-distance and international phone rates. She always hung up on telemarketers, but there was something about his voice that made her turn down the stove and hold on to the receiver, something poignantly untried, untested, the slightest of tremors, an aggressive customer-service friendliness that was not aggressive at all. She asked whether he had rates better than fifty cents a minute to Nigeria. He came back and said his rates were the same. “May I ask who I’m talking to?” “My name is Ifemelu.” He repeated her name with exaggerated care. “Is it a French name?” “No. Nigerian.” “Oh, really? How long have you been in the U.S.?” “Three years.” “Wow. Cool. You sound totally American.” “Thank you.” Only after she hung up did she begin to feel the stain of a burgeoning shame spreading all over her, for thanking him, for crafting his words “You sound American” into a garland that she hung around her own neck. Why was it a compliment, an accomplishment, to sound American? And so she finished eating her eggs and resolved to stop faking the American accent. She first spoke without the American accent that afternoon at Thirtieth Street Station, leaning towards the woman behind the Amtrak counter. “Could I have a round-trip to Haverhill, please? Returning Sunday afternoon”, she said, and felt a rush of pleasure from giving the t its full due in “advantage”, from not rolling her r in “Haverhill.” This was truly her; this was the voice with which she would speak if she were woken up from a deep sleep during an earthquake. Still, she resolved that if the Amtrak woman responded to her accent by speaking too slowly as though to an idiot, then she would put on her Mr. Agbo voice, the mannered, overcareful pronunciations she had learned during debate meetings in secondary school when the bearded Mr. Agbo played BBC recordings on his cassette player and then made all the students pronounce words over and over until he beamed and cried “Correct”! But there was no need to do any of these because the Amtrak woman spoke normally. “Can I see an ID*, miss?” Explique, com base no texto, por que Ifemelu decidiu parar de fingir o sotaque americano. (UERJ 2020)

O fragmento de texto a seguir faz parte do romance Americanah, de Chimamanda N. Adichie. Nele, a protagonista, Ifemelu, uma imigrante nigeriana, narra dois episódios de sua vida nos Estados Unidos. Ifemelu decided to stop faking an American accent on a sunlit day in July. It was convincing, the accent. She had perfected, from careful watching of friends and newscasters, but the accent creaked with consciousness, it was an act of will. It took an effort, the twisting of lip, the curling of tongue, the sentences starting with “So”. If she were in a panic, or terrified, she would not remember how to produce those American sounds. And so she resolved to stop, on that summer day. On that July morning, her weekend bag already packed for Massachusetts, she was making scrambled eggs when the phone rang. It was a telemarketer, a young, male American who was offering better long-distance and international phone rates. She always hung up on telemarketers, but there was something about his voice that made her turn down the stove and hold on to the receiver, something poignantly untried, untested, the slightest of tremors, an aggressive customer-service friendliness that was not aggressive at all. She asked whether he had rates better than fifty cents a minute to Nigeria. He came back and said his rates were the same. “May I ask who I’m talking to?” “My name is Ifemelu.” He repeated her name with exaggerated care. “Is it a French name?” “No. Nigerian.” “Oh, really? How long have you been in the U.S.?” “Three years.” “Wow. Cool. You sound totally American.” “Thank you.” Only after she hung up did she begin to feel the stain of a burgeoning shame spreading all over her, for thanking him, for crafting his words “You sound American” into a garland that she hung around her own neck. Why was it a compliment, an accomplishment, to sound American? And so she finished eating her eggs and resolved to stop faking the American accent. She first spoke without the American accent that afternoon at Thirtieth Street Station, leaning towards the woman behind the Amtrak counter. “Could I have a round-trip to Haverhill, please? Returning Sunday afternoon”, she said, and felt a rush of pleasure from giving the t its full due in “advantage”, from not rolling her r in “Haverhill.” This was truly her; this was the voice with which she would speak if she were woken up from a deep sleep during an earthquake. Still, she resolved that if the Amtrak woman responded to her accent by speaking too slowly as though to an idiot, then she would put on her Mr. Agbo voice, the mannered, overcareful pronunciations she had learned during debate meetings in secondary school when the bearded Mr. Agbo played BBC recordings on his cassette player and then made all the students pronounce words over and over until he beamed and cried “Correct”! But there was no need to do any of these because the Amtrak woman spoke normally. “Can I see an ID*, miss?” Comente o significado da frase “You sound American” para Ifemelu, conforme o texto. (UERJ 2020)