1.
Black Americans in Flight, a mural honoring several aviation pioneers, also ------- the 1992 spaceflight of astronaut Mae Jemison.
A. 
B. 
C. 
D. 
E. 
2.
The new antifungal agent has such ------- uses, from treating Dutch elm disease to rescuing water-damaged works of art from molds, that it is considered one of the more ------- antibiotics.
A. 
B. 
Innovative . . precipitous
C. 
Mysterious . . recognized
D. 
E. 
Similar . . discriminating
3.
The child had a tendency toward aggressive behavior, a ------- fighting rather than resolving differences amicably.
A. 
B. 
C. 
D. 
E. 
4.
Physical exercise often has a ------- effect, releasing emotional tension and refreshing the spirit.
A. 
B. 
C. 
D. 
E. 
5.
Because rap and hip-hop offer such ------- commentary on contemporary issues, they are often said to be sharp-edged musical genres.
A. 
B. 
C. 
D. 
E. 
6.
Each passage below is followed by questions based on its content. Answer the questions on the basis of what is stated or implied in each passage and in any introductory material that may be provided.
“Mechanical pencils rule,” my fifteen-year-old
grandniece, Genevieve, declared when I invited her to
be her generation’s voice on school supplies. “Nobody
sharpens anymore.” Then, continuing with a fashion
(Line 5) maven’s hyperbole and arbitrary imperatives, she gave
a passionate disquisition on types of clickers, new grips,
smaller lead sizes, and other niceties of pencil selection.
As she consigned the yellow-painted wooden pencil to
the wastebasket of history, I felt a rush of nostalgia for
(Line 10) the perfumed sharpener shavings of my youth.
In lines 4-5, the author refers to a “fashion maven’s”
tone primarily in order to
A. 
Imply that Genevieve has only a superficial appreciation of mechanical pencils
B. 
Suggest that Genevieve is excessively concerned about her clothing
C. 
Illustrate some of the exaggerated claims made by mechanical pencil manufacturers
D. 
Emphasize the unpredictability of trends in consumer tastes
E. 
Indicate that Genevieve expresses her opinions with authority and flair
7.
Each passage below is followed by questions based on its content. Answer the questions on the basis of what is stated or implied in each passage and in any introductory material that may be provided.
“Mechanical pencils rule,” my fifteen-year-old
grandniece, Genevieve, declared when I invited her to
be her generation’s voice on school supplies. “Nobody
sharpens anymore.” Then, continuing with a fashion
(Line 5) maven’s hyperbole and arbitrary imperatives, she gave
a passionate disquisition on types of clickers, new grips,
smaller lead sizes, and other niceties of pencil selection.
As she consigned the yellow-painted wooden pencil to
the wastebasket of history, I felt a rush of nostalgia for
(Line 10) the perfumed sharpener shavings of my youth.
The author mentions “sharpener shavings” (line 10)
in order to portray a mood of
A. 
B. 
C. 
D. 
E. 
8.
Each passage below is followed by questions based on its content. Answer the questions on the basis of what is stated or implied in each passage and in any introductory material that may be provided.
Black holes are the most efficient engines of destruction
known to humanity. Their intense gravity is a one-way
ticket to oblivion, and material spiraling into them can
heat up to millions of degrees and glow brightly. Yet, they
(Line 5) are not all-powerful. Even supermassive black holes are
minuscule by cosmic standards. They typically account for
less than one percent of their galaxy’s mass. Accordingly,
astronomers long assumed that supermassive holes, let
alone their smaller cousins, would have little effect beyond
(Line 10) their immediate neighborhoods. So it has come as a surprise
over the past decade that black hole activity is closely
intertwined with star formation occurring farther out in the
galaxy.
Which best describes the function of the statement
in lines 10-13 (“So it . . . galaxy”) ?
A. 
It summarizes the points made in the first four lines of the passage.
B. 
It provides support for the argument asserted in the preceding statement.
C. 
It introduces a new view of information presented earlier in the passage.
D. 
It challenges recent scientific findings.
E. 
It offers examples to support a theory.
9.
Each passage below is followed by questions based on its content. Answer the questions on the basis of what is stated or implied in each passage and in any introductory material that may be provided.
Black holes are the most efficient engines of destruction
known to humanity. Their intense gravity is a one-way
ticket to oblivion, and material spiraling into them can
heat up to millions of degrees and glow brightly. Yet, they
(Line 5) are not all-powerful. Even supermassive black holes are
minuscule by cosmic standards. They typically account for
less than one percent of their galaxy’s mass. Accordingly,
astronomers long assumed that supermassive holes, let
alone their smaller cousins, would have little effect beyond
(Line 10) their immediate neighborhoods. So it has come as a surprise
over the past decade that black hole activity is closely
intertwined with star formation occurring farther out in the
galaxy.
Which of the following most resembles the relationship
between “black hole activity” and “star formation”
(lines 11-12) as described in the passage?
A. 
A volcanic eruption on one continent results in higher rainfall totals on another continent.
B. 
Industrial emissions in one region lead to an increase in airborne pollutants in adjacent regions.
C. 
A drought in a wilderness area causes a significant loss of vegetation in that area.
D. 
Decreased oil production in one country results in higher gas prices in oil-dependent countries.
E. 
Overfishing in a gulf leads to an increase in the population of smaller aquatic organisms.
10.
The following passage is an excerpt from a 1909 novel.
Georgia, the main character, is a reporter in an otherwise
all-male newsroom.
Georgia was to be married. It was the week before
Christmas, and on the last day of the year she would
become Mrs. Joseph Tank. She had told Joe that if
they were to be married at all they might as well get it
(Line 5) over with this year, and still there was no need of being
married any earlier in the year than was necessary. She
assured him that she married him simply because she was
tired of having paper bags waved before her eyes everywhere
she went and she thought if she were once officially
(Line 10) associated with him people would not flaunt his idiosyncrasies
at her that way. And then Ernestine, her best friend,
approved of getting married, and Ernestine’s ideas were
usually good. To all of which Joe responded that she
certainly had a splendid head to figure it out that way.
(Line 15) Joe said that to his mind reasons for doing things weren’t
very important anyhow; it was doing them that counted.
Yesterday had been her last day on the paper. She had
felt queer about that thing of taking her last assignment,
though it was hard to reach just the proper state, for the
(Line 20) last story related to pork-packers, and pork-packing is
not a setting favorable to sentimental regrets. It was just
like the newspaper business not even to allow one a little
sentimental harrowing over one’s exodus from it. But the
time for gentle melancholy came later on when she was
(Line 25) sorting her things at her desk just before leaving, and
was wondering what girl would have that old desk—if
they cared to risk another girl, and whether the other poor
girl would slave through the years she should have been
frivolous, only to have some man step in at the end and
(Line 30) induce her to surrender the things she had gained through
sacrifice and toil.
As she wrote a final letter on her typewriter—she did
hate letting the old machine go—Georgia did considerable
philosophizing about the irony of working for things only
(Line 35) to the end of giving them up. She had waded through snowdrifts
and been drenched in pouring rains, she had been
frozen with the cold and prostrated with the heat, she had
been blown about by Chicago wind until it was strange
there was any of her left in one piece, she had had front
(Line 40) doors—yes, and back doors too—slammed in her face,
she had been the butt of the alleged wit of menials and
hirelings, she had been patronized by vapid women as
the poor girl who must make her living some way, she
had been roasted by—but never mind—she had had
(Line 45) a beat* or two! And now she was to wind it all up by
marrying Joseph Tank, who had made a great deal of
money out of the manufacture of paper bags. This from
her—who had always believed she would end her days
in New York, or perhaps write a realistic novel exposing
50 some mighty evil!
* the area regularly covered by a reporter
Based on information presented in the passage, which
best describes what Georgia was “tired of ” (line 8) ?
A. 
Being forced to earn a living
B. 
Being teased about Joseph Tank
C. 
Being considered a hack writer by some of her colleagues
D. 
Being betrayed by her supposed friends
E. 
Being the only woman in the newsroom
11.
The following passage is an excerpt from a 1909 novel.
Georgia, the main character, is a reporter in an otherwise
all-male newsroom.
Georgia was to be married. It was the week before
Christmas, and on the last day of the year she would
become Mrs. Joseph Tank. She had told Joe that if
they were to be married at all they might as well get it
(Line 5) over with this year, and still there was no need of being
married any earlier in the year than was necessary. She
assured him that she married him simply because she was
tired of having paper bags waved before her eyes everywhere
she went and she thought if she were once officially
(Line 10) associated with him people would not flaunt his idiosyncrasies
at her that way. And then Ernestine, her best friend,
approved of getting married, and Ernestine’s ideas were
usually good. To all of which Joe responded that she
certainly had a splendid head to figure it out that way.
(Line 15) Joe said that to his mind reasons for doing things weren’t
very important anyhow; it was doing them that counted.
Yesterday had been her last day on the paper. She had
felt queer about that thing of taking her last assignment,
though it was hard to reach just the proper state, for the
(Line 20) last story related to pork-packers, and pork-packing is
not a setting favorable to sentimental regrets. It was just
like the newspaper business not even to allow one a little
sentimental harrowing over one’s exodus from it. But the
time for gentle melancholy came later on when she was
(Line 25) sorting her things at her desk just before leaving, and
was wondering what girl would have that old desk—if
they cared to risk another girl, and whether the other poor
girl would slave through the years she should have been
frivolous, only to have some man step in at the end and
(Line 30) induce her to surrender the things she had gained through
sacrifice and toil.
As she wrote a final letter on her typewriter—she did
hate letting the old machine go—Georgia did considerable
philosophizing about the irony of working for things only
(Line 35) to the end of giving them up. She had waded through snowdrifts
and been drenched in pouring rains, she had been
frozen with the cold and prostrated with the heat, she had
been blown about by Chicago wind until it was strange
there was any of her left in one piece, she had had front
(Line 40) doors—yes, and back doors too—slammed in her face,
she had been the butt of the alleged wit of menials and
hirelings, she had been patronized by vapid women as
the poor girl who must make her living some way, she
had been roasted by—but never mind—she had had
(Line 45) a beat* or two! And now she was to wind it all up by
marrying Joseph Tank, who had made a great deal of
money out of the manufacture of paper bags. This from
her—who had always believed she would end her days
in New York, or perhaps write a realistic novel exposing
50 some mighty evil!
* the area regularly covered by a reporter
The second paragraph suggests that Georgia believes
the “proper state” (line 19) would be one of
A. 
B. 
C. 
D. 
E. 
12.
The following passage is an excerpt from a 1909 novel.
Georgia, the main character, is a reporter in an otherwise
all-male newsroom.
Georgia was to be married. It was the week before
Christmas, and on the last day of the year she would
become Mrs. Joseph Tank. She had told Joe that if
they were to be married at all they might as well get it
(Line 5) over with this year, and still there was no need of being
married any earlier in the year than was necessary. She
assured him that she married him simply because she was
tired of having paper bags waved before her eyes everywhere
she went and she thought if she were once officially
(Line 10) associated with him people would not flaunt his idiosyncrasies
at her that way. And then Ernestine, her best friend,
approved of getting married, and Ernestine’s ideas were
usually good. To all of which Joe responded that she
certainly had a splendid head to figure it out that way.
(Line 15) Joe said that to his mind reasons for doing things weren’t
very important anyhow; it was doing them that counted.
Yesterday had been her last day on the paper. She had
felt queer about that thing of taking her last assignment,
though it was hard to reach just the proper state, for the
(Line 20) last story related to pork-packers, and pork-packing is
not a setting favorable to sentimental regrets. It was just
like the newspaper business not even to allow one a little
sentimental harrowing over one’s exodus from it. But the
time for gentle melancholy came later on when she was
(Line 25) sorting her things at her desk just before leaving, and
was wondering what girl would have that old desk—if
they cared to risk another girl, and whether the other poor
girl would slave through the years she should have been
frivolous, only to have some man step in at the end and
(Line 30) induce her to surrender the things she had gained through
sacrifice and toil.
As she wrote a final letter on her typewriter—she did
hate letting the old machine go—Georgia did considerable
philosophizing about the irony of working for things only
(Line 35) to the end of giving them up. She had waded through snowdrifts
and been drenched in pouring rains, she had been
frozen with the cold and prostrated with the heat, she had
been blown about by Chicago wind until it was strange
there was any of her left in one piece, she had had front
(Line 40) doors—yes, and back doors too—slammed in her face,
she had been the butt of the alleged wit of menials and
hirelings, she had been patronized by vapid women as
the poor girl who must make her living some way, she
had been roasted by—but never mind—she had had
(Line 45) a beat* or two! And now she was to wind it all up by
marrying Joseph Tank, who had made a great deal of
money out of the manufacture of paper bags. This from
her—who had always believed she would end her days
in New York, or perhaps write a realistic novel exposing
50 some mighty evil!
* the area regularly covered by a reporter
In line 27, “poor” most nearly means
A. 
B. 
C. 
D. 
E. 
13.
The following passage is an excerpt from a 1909 novel.
Georgia, the main character, is a reporter in an otherwise
all-male newsroom.
Georgia was to be married. It was the week before
Christmas, and on the last day of the year she would
become Mrs. Joseph Tank. She had told Joe that if
they were to be married at all they might as well get it
(Line 5) over with this year, and still there was no need of being
married any earlier in the year than was necessary. She
assured him that she married him simply because she was
tired of having paper bags waved before her eyes everywhere
she went and she thought if she were once officially
(Line 10) associated with him people would not flaunt his idiosyncrasies
at her that way. And then Ernestine, her best friend,
approved of getting married, and Ernestine’s ideas were
usually good. To all of which Joe responded that she
certainly had a splendid head to figure it out that way.
(Line 15) Joe said that to his mind reasons for doing things weren’t
very important anyhow; it was doing them that counted.
Yesterday had been her last day on the paper. She had
felt queer about that thing of taking her last assignment,
though it was hard to reach just the proper state, for the
(Line 20) last story related to pork-packers, and pork-packing is
not a setting favorable to sentimental regrets. It was just
like the newspaper business not even to allow one a little
sentimental harrowing over one’s exodus from it. But the
time for gentle melancholy came later on when she was
(Line 25) sorting her things at her desk just before leaving, and
was wondering what girl would have that old desk—if
they cared to risk another girl, and whether the other poor
girl would slave through the years she should have been
frivolous, only to have some man step in at the end and
(Line 30) induce her to surrender the things she had gained through
sacrifice and toil.
As she wrote a final letter on her typewriter—she did
hate letting the old machine go—Georgia did considerable
philosophizing about the irony of working for things only
(Line 35) to the end of giving them up. She had waded through snowdrifts
and been drenched in pouring rains, she had been
frozen with the cold and prostrated with the heat, she had
been blown about by Chicago wind until it was strange
there was any of her left in one piece, she had had front
(Line 40) doors—yes, and back doors too—slammed in her face,
she had been the butt of the alleged wit of menials and
hirelings, she had been patronized by vapid women as
the poor girl who must make her living some way, she
had been roasted by—but never mind—she had had
(Line 45) a beat* or two! And now she was to wind it all up by
marrying Joseph Tank, who had made a great deal of
money out of the manufacture of paper bags. This from
her—who had always believed she would end her days
in New York, or perhaps write a realistic novel exposing
50 some mighty evil!
* the area regularly covered by a reporter
Which most resembles the “irony” mentioned
in line 34 ?
A. 
A worker moving to a distant state to take a job, only to be fired without warning
B. 
An executive making an important decision, only to regret it later
C. 
An athlete earning a starting position on a good team, only to quit in midseason
D. 
A student studying for a major exam, only to learn that it has been postponed
E. 
A person purchasing an expensive umbrella, only to lose it on the first rainy day
14.
The following passage is an excerpt from a 1909 novel.
Georgia, the main character, is a reporter in an otherwise
all-male newsroom.
Georgia was to be married. It was the week before
Christmas, and on the last day of the year she would
become Mrs. Joseph Tank. She had told Joe that if
they were to be married at all they might as well get it
(Line 5) over with this year, and still there was no need of being
married any earlier in the year than was necessary. She
assured him that she married him simply because she was
tired of having paper bags waved before her eyes everywhere
she went and she thought if she were once officially
(Line 10) associated with him people would not flaunt his idiosyncrasies
at her that way. And then Ernestine, her best friend,
approved of getting married, and Ernestine’s ideas were
usually good. To all of which Joe responded that she
certainly had a splendid head to figure it out that way.
(Line 15) Joe said that to his mind reasons for doing things weren’t
very important anyhow; it was doing them that counted.
Yesterday had been her last day on the paper. She had
felt queer about that thing of taking her last assignment,
though it was hard to reach just the proper state, for the
(Line 20) last story related to pork-packers, and pork-packing is
not a setting favorable to sentimental regrets. It was just
like the newspaper business not even to allow one a little
sentimental harrowing over one’s exodus from it. But the
time for gentle melancholy came later on when she was
(Line 25) sorting her things at her desk just before leaving, and
was wondering what girl would have that old desk—if
they cared to risk another girl, and whether the other poor
girl would slave through the years she should have been
frivolous, only to have some man step in at the end and
(Line 30) induce her to surrender the things she had gained through
sacrifice and toil.
As she wrote a final letter on her typewriter—she did
hate letting the old machine go—Georgia did considerable
philosophizing about the irony of working for things only
(Line 35) to the end of giving them up. She had waded through snowdrifts
and been drenched in pouring rains, she had been
frozen with the cold and prostrated with the heat, she had
been blown about by Chicago wind until it was strange
there was any of her left in one piece, she had had front
(Line 40) doors—yes, and back doors too—slammed in her face,
she had been the butt of the alleged wit of menials and
hirelings, she had been patronized by vapid women as
the poor girl who must make her living some way, she
had been roasted by—but never mind—she had had
(Line 45) a beat* or two! And now she was to wind it all up by
marrying Joseph Tank, who had made a great deal of
money out of the manufacture of paper bags. This from
her—who had always believed she would end her days
in New York, or perhaps write a realistic novel exposing
50 some mighty evil!
* the area regularly covered by a reporter
The description in lines 35-45 (“She . . . two!”)
primarily serves to
A. 
Suggest that Georgia envied those women who did not have to work
B. 
Imply that Georgia would be unlikely ever to consider working as a reporter again
C. 
Indicate the role that weather plays in the everyday life of a reporter
D. 
Exaggerate Georgia’s reluctance to relinquish her job
E. 
Show the adversities Georgia had to overcome as a reporter
15.
The following passage is an excerpt from a 1909 novel.
Georgia, the main character, is a reporter in an otherwise
all-male newsroom.
Georgia was to be married. It was the week before
Christmas, and on the last day of the year she would
become Mrs. Joseph Tank. She had told Joe that if
they were to be married at all they might as well get it
(Line 5) over with this year, and still there was no need of being
married any earlier in the year than was necessary. She
assured him that she married him simply because she was
tired of having paper bags waved before her eyes everywhere
she went and she thought if she were once officially
(Line 10) associated with him people would not flaunt his idiosyncrasies
at her that way. And then Ernestine, her best friend,
approved of getting married, and Ernestine’s ideas were
usually good. To all of which Joe responded that she
certainly had a splendid head to figure it out that way.
(Line 15) Joe said that to his mind reasons for doing things weren’t
very important anyhow; it was doing them that counted.
Yesterday had been her last day on the paper. She had
felt queer about that thing of taking her last assignment,
though it was hard to reach just the proper state, for the
(Line 20) last story related to pork-packers, and pork-packing is
not a setting favorable to sentimental regrets. It was just
like the newspaper business not even to allow one a little
sentimental harrowing over one’s exodus from it. But the
time for gentle melancholy came later on when she was
(Line 25) sorting her things at her desk just before leaving, and
was wondering what girl would have that old desk—if
they cared to risk another girl, and whether the other poor
girl would slave through the years she should have been
frivolous, only to have some man step in at the end and
(Line 30) induce her to surrender the things she had gained through
sacrifice and toil.
As she wrote a final letter on her typewriter—she did
hate letting the old machine go—Georgia did considerable
philosophizing about the irony of working for things only
(Line 35) to the end of giving them up. She had waded through snowdrifts
and been drenched in pouring rains, she had been
frozen with the cold and prostrated with the heat, she had
been blown about by Chicago wind until it was strange
there was any of her left in one piece, she had had front
(Line 40) doors—yes, and back doors too—slammed in her face,
she had been the butt of the alleged wit of menials and
hirelings, she had been patronized by vapid women as
the poor girl who must make her living some way, she
had been roasted by—but never mind—she had had
(Line 45) a beat* or two! And now she was to wind it all up by
marrying Joseph Tank, who had made a great deal of
money out of the manufacture of paper bags. This from
her—who had always believed she would end her days
in New York, or perhaps write a realistic novel exposing
50 some mighty evil!
* the area regularly covered by a reporter
In context, the phrase “This from her” (lines 47-48)
helps to suggest that a
A. 
Specific feeling is quite heartfelt
B. 
Stated viewpoint is highly personal
C. 
Certain decision is out of character
D. 
Particular behavior is extremely upsetting
E. 
Given attitude is unsurprising
16.
The following passage is adapted from a book about
television and popular culture.
Ridiculing television, and warning about its inherent
evils, is nothing new. It has been that way since the
medium was invented, and television hasn’t exactly
been lavished with respect as the decades have passed.
(Line 5) I suspect, though, that a lot of the fear and loathing
directed at television comes out of a time-honored,
reflexive overreaction to the dominant medium of the
moment. For the past several decades, television has
been blamed for corrupting our youth and exciting
(Line 10) our adults, distorting reality, and basically being a
big, perhaps dangerous, waste of time. Before TV,
radio and film were accused of the same things. And
long before that—in fact, some 2,500 years earlier—
philosophers were arguing that poetry and drama
(Line 15) should be excluded from any ideal city on much the
same grounds.
In Book 10 of the Republic, Plato (428-348 B.C.)
attacks epic poet Homer (c. 850 B.C.) and the tragedians
on several grounds, all of which have a familiar
(Line 20) ring. “Their productions are appearances and not realities,”
he gripes. “Drawing, and in fact all imitation . . . [is] quite
removed from the truth.” The audience, as well as the art
form, troubled Plato, whose remarks are colored by an
implied disdain for the popularity of public performances.
(Line 25) The “common people,” as Plato so charitably calls them,
are drawn to “peevish and diverse” characters—such as
Odysseus and other heroes in the Iliad and the Odyssey—
who (to Plato, anyway) engage in such questionable
displays of emotion as “spinning out a long melancholy
(Line 30) lamentation” or “disfiguring themselves in grief.” To
Plato, baring such intimate sorrows is not to be condoned.
(Clearly, he would have given thumbs down to the central
characters of Shakespeare’s Hamlet and Macbeth.) “If you
receive the pleasure-seasoned Muse1 of song and epic,”
(Line 35) Plato warns, “pleasure and pain will be kings in your city,
instead of law.” Finally, Plato sums up his anti-arts argument
with the cold, sweeping pronouncement that “poetry
is not to be taken seriously.”
One academic who has studied and written extensively
(Line 40) about both Plato and television suggests that Plato, rather
than being anti-arts, was merely an elitist. Plato wanted
to ban poetry readings and live theater, the argument
goes, because, being free and accessible and raucous and
extremely popular, they were the mass entertainment
(Line 45) of that era. “If, instead of ‘tragedy’ and ‘poetry,’ and
‘Homer’ and ‘Aeschylus,’2 you read ‘mass entertainment’
or ‘popular media,’ you’ll recognize Plato’s arguments as
the ancestor of all the reasons we have today for being
suspicious of television.”
(Line 50) To wit: poetry, by which Plato means drama, confuses
us between appearance and reality. The action it presents
is too extreme and violent. Most important, it’s a corrupting
influence, perverting its audience by bombarding it
with inferior characters and vulgar subjects—and
(Line 55) constituting, in Plato’s own words, “a harm to the mind of
its audience.”
If Plato’s Republic had become reality, it would have
been a republic with a lot of empty libraries, theaters, and
museums—if, indeed, those repositories of the arts would
(Line 60) have survived at all. Plato’s personal utopia never came to
pass—but throughout the centuries, wherever and whenever
a new medium of artistic expression attracted a lot
of people, someone has been ready, waiting, and eager to
attack its content and fear its impact.
1 The Muses inspired poetry and song in Greek mythology.
2 Aeschylus (525-456 B.C.) was a Greek tragic dramatist.
The opening paragraph primarily serves to
A. 
Criticize the way television distorts the truth
B. 
Examine the evolution of television as a medium
C. 
Place contemporary criticism of television in a historical context
D. 
Directly compare television and drama as art forms
E. 
Explain why television, radio, and drama appeal to the masses
17.
The following passage is adapted from a book about
television and popular culture.
Ridiculing television, and warning about its inherent
evils, is nothing new. It has been that way since the
medium was invented, and television hasn’t exactly
been lavished with respect as the decades have passed.
5 I suspect, though, that a lot of the fear and loathing
directed at television comes out of a time-honored,
reflexive overreaction to the dominant medium of the
moment. For the past several decades, television has
been blamed for corrupting our youth and exciting
10 our adults, distorting reality, and basically being a
big, perhaps dangerous, waste of time. Before TV,
radio and film were accused of the same things. And
long before that—in fact, some 2,500 years earlier—
philosophers were arguing that poetry and drama
15 should be excluded from any ideal city on much the
same grounds.
In Book 10 of the Republic, Plato (428-348 B.C.)
attacks epic poet Homer (c. 850 B.C.) and the tragedians
on several grounds, all of which have a familiar
20 ring. “Their productions are appearances and not realities,”
he gripes. “Drawing, and in fact all imitation . . . [is] quite
removed from the truth.” The audience, as well as the art
form, troubled Plato, whose remarks are colored by an
implied disdain for the popularity of public performances.
25 The “common people,” as Plato so charitably calls them,
are drawn to “peevish and diverse” characters—such as
Odysseus and other heroes in the Iliad and the Odyssey—
who (to Plato, anyway) engage in such questionable
displays of emotion as “spinning out a long melancholy
30 lamentation” or “disfiguring themselves in grief.” To
Plato, baring such intimate sorrows is not to be condoned.
(Clearly, he would have given thumbs down to the central
characters of Shakespeare’s Hamlet and Macbeth.) “If you
receive the pleasure-seasoned Muse1 of song and epic,”
35 Plato warns, “pleasure and pain will be kings in your city,
instead of law.” Finally, Plato sums up his anti-arts argument
with the cold, sweeping pronouncement that “poetry
is not to be taken seriously.”
One academic who has studied and written extensively
40 about both Plato and television suggests that Plato, rather
than being anti-arts, was merely an elitist. Plato wanted
to ban poetry readings and live theater, the argument
goes, because, being free and accessible and raucous and
extremely popular, they were the mass entertainment
45 of that era. “If, instead of ‘tragedy’ and ‘poetry,’ and
‘Homer’ and ‘Aeschylus,’2 you read ‘mass entertainment’
or ‘popular media,’ you’ll recognize Plato’s arguments as
the ancestor of all the reasons we have today for being
suspicious of television.”
50 To wit: poetry, by which Plato means drama, confuses
us between appearance and reality. The action it presents
is too extreme and violent. Most important, it’s a corrupting
influence, perverting its audience by bombarding it
with inferior characters and vulgar subjects—and con55
stituting, in Plato’s own words, “a harm to the mind of
its audience.”
If Plato’s Republic had become reality, it would have
been a republic with a lot of empty libraries, theaters, and
museums—if, indeed, those repositories of the arts would
60 have survived at all. Plato’s personal utopia never came to
pass—but throughout the centuries, wherever and whenever
a new medium of artistic expression attracted a lot
of people, someone has been ready, waiting, and eager to
attack its content and fear its impact.
1 The Muses inspired poetry and song in Greek mythology.
2 Aeschylus (525-456 B.C.) was a Greek tragic dramatist.
Which of the following television shows would
be LEAST vulnerable to the criticism expressed
in lines 8-11 (“For . . . time”) ?
A. 
A melodrama in which police detectives attempt to solve crimes
B. 
A soap opera depicting interpersonal conflicts in a fictional law firm
C. 
A comedy whose primary characters are supernatural
D. 
A documentary on the state of education in the nation
E. 
A talk show that encourages people to confront each other in front of a studio audience
18.
The following passage is adapted from a book about
television and popular culture.
Ridiculing television, and warning about its inherent
evils, is nothing new. It has been that way since the
medium was invented, and television hasn’t exactly
been lavished with respect as the decades have passed.
(Line 5) I suspect, though, that a lot of the fear and loathing
directed at television comes out of a time-honored,
reflexive overreaction to the dominant medium of the
moment. For the past several decades, television has
been blamed for corrupting our youth and exciting
(Line 10) our adults, distorting reality, and basically being a
big, perhaps dangerous, waste of time. Before TV,
radio and film were accused of the same things. And
long before that—in fact, some 2,500 years earlier—
philosophers were arguing that poetry and drama
(Line 15) should be excluded from any ideal city on much the
same grounds.
In Book 10 of the Republic, Plato (428-348 B.C.)
attacks epic poet Homer (c. 850 B.C.) and the tragedians
on several grounds, all of which have a familiar
(Line 20) ring. “Their productions are appearances and not realities,”
he gripes. “Drawing, and in fact all imitation . . . [is] quite
removed from the truth.” The audience, as well as the art
form, troubled Plato, whose remarks are colored by an
implied disdain for the popularity of public performances.
(Line 25) The “common people,” as Plato so charitably calls them,
are drawn to “peevish and diverse” characters—such as
Odysseus and other heroes in the Iliad and the Odyssey—
who (to Plato, anyway) engage in such questionable
displays of emotion as “spinning out a long melancholy
(Line 30) lamentation” or “disfiguring themselves in grief.” To
Plato, baring such intimate sorrows is not to be condoned.
(Clearly, he would have given thumbs down to the central
characters of Shakespeare’s Hamlet and Macbeth.) “If you
receive the pleasure-seasoned Muse1 of song and epic,”
(Line 35) Plato warns, “pleasure and pain will be kings in your city,
instead of law.” Finally, Plato sums up his anti-arts argument
with the cold, sweeping pronouncement that “poetry
is not to be taken seriously.”
One academic who has studied and written extensively
(Line 40) about both Plato and television suggests that Plato, rather
than being anti-arts, was merely an elitist. Plato wanted
to ban poetry readings and live theater, the argument
goes, because, being free and accessible and raucous and
extremely popular, they were the mass entertainment
(Line 45) of that era. “If, instead of ‘tragedy’ and ‘poetry,’ and
‘Homer’ and ‘Aeschylus,’2 you read ‘mass entertainment’
or ‘popular media,’ you’ll recognize Plato’s arguments as
the ancestor of all the reasons we have today for being
suspicious of television.”
(Line 50) To wit: poetry, by which Plato means drama, confuses
us between appearance and reality. The action it presents
is too extreme and violent. Most important, it’s a corrupting
influence, perverting its audience by bombarding it
with inferior characters and vulgar subjects—and
(Line 55) constituting, in Plato’s own words, “a harm to the mind of
its audience.”
If Plato’s Republic had become reality, it would have
been a republic with a lot of empty libraries, theaters, and
museums—if, indeed, those repositories of the arts would
(Line 60) have survived at all. Plato’s personal utopia never came to
pass—but throughout the centuries, wherever and whenever
a new medium of artistic expression attracted a lot
of people, someone has been ready, waiting, and eager to
attack its content and fear its impact.
1 The Muses inspired poetry and song in Greek mythology.
2 Aeschylus (525-456 B.C.) was a Greek tragic dramatist.
In line 26, “drawn” most nearly means
A. 
B. 
C. 
D. 
E. 
19.
The following passage is adapted from a book about
television and popular culture.
Ridiculing television, and warning about its inherent
evils, is nothing new. It has been that way since the
medium was invented, and television hasn’t exactly
been lavished with respect as the decades have passed.
(Line 5) I suspect, though, that a lot of the fear and loathing
directed at television comes out of a time-honored,
reflexive overreaction to the dominant medium of the
moment. For the past several decades, television has
been blamed for corrupting our youth and exciting
(Line 10) our adults, distorting reality, and basically being a
big, perhaps dangerous, waste of time. Before TV,
radio and film were accused of the same things. And
long before that—in fact, some 2,500 years earlier—
philosophers were arguing that poetry and drama
(Line 15) should be excluded from any ideal city on much the
same grounds.
In Book 10 of the Republic, Plato (428-348 B.C.)
attacks epic poet Homer (c. 850 B.C.) and the tragedians
on several grounds, all of which have a familiar
(Line 20) ring. “Their productions are appearances and not realities,”
he gripes. “Drawing, and in fact all imitation . . . [is] quite
removed from the truth.” The audience, as well as the art
form, troubled Plato, whose remarks are colored by an
implied disdain for the popularity of public performances.
(Line 25) The “common people,” as Plato so charitably calls them,
are drawn to “peevish and diverse” characters—such as
Odysseus and other heroes in the Iliad and the Odyssey—
who (to Plato, anyway) engage in such questionable
displays of emotion as “spinning out a long melancholy
(Line 30) lamentation” or “disfiguring themselves in grief.” To
Plato, baring such intimate sorrows is not to be condoned.
(Clearly, he would have given thumbs down to the central
characters of Shakespeare’s Hamlet and Macbeth.) “If you
receive the pleasure-seasoned Muse1 of song and epic,”
(Line 35) Plato warns, “pleasure and pain will be kings in your city,
instead of law.” Finally, Plato sums up his anti-arts argument
with the cold, sweeping pronouncement that “poetry
is not to be taken seriously.”
One academic who has studied and written extensively
(Line 40) about both Plato and television suggests that Plato, rather
than being anti-arts, was merely an elitist. Plato wanted
to ban poetry readings and live theater, the argument
goes, because, being free and accessible and raucous and
extremely popular, they were the mass entertainment
(Line 45) of that era. “If, instead of ‘tragedy’ and ‘poetry,’ and
‘Homer’ and ‘Aeschylus,’2 you read ‘mass entertainment’
or ‘popular media,’ you’ll recognize Plato’s arguments as
the ancestor of all the reasons we have today for being
suspicious of television.”
(Line 50) To wit: poetry, by which Plato means drama, confuses
us between appearance and reality. The action it presents
is too extreme and violent. Most important, it’s a corrupting
influence, perverting its audience by bombarding it
with inferior characters and vulgar subjects—and
(Line 55) constituting, in Plato’s own words, “a harm to the mind of
its audience.”
If Plato’s Republic had become reality, it would have
been a republic with a lot of empty libraries, theaters, and
museums—if, indeed, those repositories of the arts would
(Line 60) have survived at all. Plato’s personal utopia never came to
pass—but throughout the centuries, wherever and whenever
a new medium of artistic expression attracted a lot
of people, someone has been ready, waiting, and eager to
attack its content and fear its impact.
1 The Muses inspired poetry and song in Greek mythology.
2 Aeschylus (525-456 B.C.) was a Greek tragic dramatist.
Which of the following best characterizes Plato’s view
of the heroes mentioned in line 27 ?
A. 
B. 
C. 
D. 
E. 
20.
The following passage is adapted from a book about
television and popular culture.
Ridiculing television, and warning about its inherent
evils, is nothing new. It has been that way since the
medium was invented, and television hasn’t exactly
been lavished with respect as the decades have passed.
(Line 5) I suspect, though, that a lot of the fear and loathing
directed at television comes out of a time-honored,
reflexive overreaction to the dominant medium of the
moment. For the past several decades, television has
been blamed for corrupting our youth and exciting
(Line 10) our adults, distorting reality, and basically being a
big, perhaps dangerous, waste of time. Before TV,
radio and film were accused of the same things. And
long before that—in fact, some 2,500 years earlier—
philosophers were arguing that poetry and drama
(Line 15) should be excluded from any ideal city on much the
same grounds.
In Book 10 of the Republic, Plato (428-348 B.C.)
attacks epic poet Homer (c. 850 B.C.) and the tragedians
on several grounds, all of which have a familiar
(Line 20) ring. “Their productions are appearances and not realities,”
he gripes. “Drawing, and in fact all imitation . . . [is] quite
removed from the truth.” The audience, as well as the art
form, troubled Plato, whose remarks are colored by an
implied disdain for the popularity of public performances.
(Line 25) The “common people,” as Plato so charitably calls them,
are drawn to “peevish and diverse” characters—such as
Odysseus and other heroes in the Iliad and the Odyssey—
who (to Plato, anyway) engage in such questionable
displays of emotion as “spinning out a long melancholy
(Line 30) lamentation” or “disfiguring themselves in grief.” To
Plato, baring such intimate sorrows is not to be condoned.
(Clearly, he would have given thumbs down to the central
characters of Shakespeare’s Hamlet and Macbeth.) “If you
receive the pleasure-seasoned Muse1 of song and epic,”
(Line 35) Plato warns, “pleasure and pain will be kings in your city,
instead of law.” Finally, Plato sums up his anti-arts argument
with the cold, sweeping pronouncement that “poetry
is not to be taken seriously.”
One academic who has studied and written extensively
(Line 40) about both Plato and television suggests that Plato, rather
than being anti-arts, was merely an elitist. Plato wanted
to ban poetry readings and live theater, the argument
goes, because, being free and accessible and raucous and
extremely popular, they were the mass entertainment
(Line 45) of that era. “If, instead of ‘tragedy’ and ‘poetry,’ and
‘Homer’ and ‘Aeschylus,’2 you read ‘mass entertainment’
or ‘popular media,’ you’ll recognize Plato’s arguments as
the ancestor of all the reasons we have today for being
suspicious of television.”
(Line 50) To wit: poetry, by which Plato means drama, confuses
us between appearance and reality. The action it presents
is too extreme and violent. Most important, it’s a corrupting
influence, perverting its audience by bombarding it
with inferior characters and vulgar subjects—and
(Line 55) constituting, in Plato’s own words, “a harm to the mind of
its audience.”
If Plato’s Republic had become reality, it would have
been a republic with a lot of empty libraries, theaters, and
museums—if, indeed, those repositories of the arts would
(Line 60) have survived at all. Plato’s personal utopia never came to
pass—but throughout the centuries, wherever and whenever
a new medium of artistic expression attracted a lot
of people, someone has been ready, waiting, and eager to
attack its content and fear its impact.
1 The Muses inspired poetry and song in Greek mythology.
2 Aeschylus (525-456 B.C.) was a Greek tragic dramatist.
The “academic” (line 39) indicates that Plato was
primarily characterized by his
A. 
B. 
C. 
D. 
E. 
21.
The following passage is adapted from a book about
television and popular culture.
Ridiculing television, and warning about its inherent
evils, is nothing new. It has been that way since the
medium was invented, and television hasn’t exactly
been lavished with respect as the decades have passed.
(Line 5) I suspect, though, that a lot of the fear and loathing
directed at television comes out of a time-honored,
reflexive overreaction to the dominant medium of the
moment. For the past several decades, television has
been blamed for corrupting our youth and exciting
(Line 10) our adults, distorting reality, and basically being a
big, perhaps dangerous, waste of time. Before TV,
radio and film were accused of the same things. And
long before that—in fact, some 2,500 years earlier—
philosophers were arguing that poetry and drama
(Line 15) should be excluded from any ideal city on much the
same grounds.
In Book 10 of the Republic, Plato (428-348 B.C.)
attacks epic poet Homer (c. 850 B.C.) and the tragedians
on several grounds, all of which have a familiar
(Line 20) ring. “Their productions are appearances and not realities,”
he gripes. “Drawing, and in fact all imitation . . . [is] quite
removed from the truth.” The audience, as well as the art
form, troubled Plato, whose remarks are colored by an
implied disdain for the popularity of public performances.
(Line 25) The “common people,” as Plato so charitably calls them,
are drawn to “peevish and diverse” characters—such as
Odysseus and other heroes in the Iliad and the Odyssey—
who (to Plato, anyway) engage in such questionable
displays of emotion as “spinning out a long melancholy
(Line 30) lamentation” or “disfiguring themselves in grief.” To
Plato, baring such intimate sorrows is not to be condoned.
(Clearly, he would have given thumbs down to the central
characters of Shakespeare’s Hamlet and Macbeth.) “If you
receive the pleasure-seasoned Muse1 of song and epic,”
(Line 35) Plato warns, “pleasure and pain will be kings in your city,
instead of law.” Finally, Plato sums up his anti-arts argument
with the cold, sweeping pronouncement that “poetry
is not to be taken seriously.”
One academic who has studied and written extensively
(Line 40) about both Plato and television suggests that Plato, rather
than being anti-arts, was merely an elitist. Plato wanted
to ban poetry readings and live theater, the argument
goes, because, being free and accessible and raucous and
extremely popular, they were the mass entertainment
(Line 45) of that era. “If, instead of ‘tragedy’ and ‘poetry,’ and
‘Homer’ and ‘Aeschylus,’2 you read ‘mass entertainment’
or ‘popular media,’ you’ll recognize Plato’s arguments as
the ancestor of all the reasons we have today for being
suspicious of television.”
(Line 50) To wit: poetry, by which Plato means drama, confuses
us between appearance and reality. The action it presents
is too extreme and violent. Most important, it’s a corrupting
influence, perverting its audience by bombarding it
with inferior characters and vulgar subjects—and
(Line 55) constituting, in Plato’s own words, “a harm to the mind of
its audience.”
If Plato’s Republic had become reality, it would have
been a republic with a lot of empty libraries, theaters, and
museums—if, indeed, those repositories of the arts would
(Line 60) have survived at all. Plato’s personal utopia never came to
pass—but throughout the centuries, wherever and whenever
a new medium of artistic expression attracted a lot
of people, someone has been ready, waiting, and eager to
attack its content and fear its impact.
1 The Muses inspired poetry and song in Greek mythology.
2 Aeschylus (525-456 B.C.) was a Greek tragic dramatist.
The primary purpose of the statements in lines 39-45 (“One . . . that era”) is to
A. 
Provide an interpretation of a viewpoint described in the previous paragraph
B. 
Show how Plato’s view of politics should be understood in today’s terms
C. 
Show how Plato’s view of politics should be understood in today’s terms
D. 
Account for the appeal of Plato’s writings
E. 
Signal a digression in the passage
22.
The following passage is adapted from a book about
television and popular culture.
Ridiculing television, and warning about its inherent
evils, is nothing new. It has been that way since the
medium was invented, and television hasn’t exactly
been lavished with respect as the decades have passed.
(Line 5) I suspect, though, that a lot of the fear and loathing
directed at television comes out of a time-honored,
reflexive overreaction to the dominant medium of the
moment. For the past several decades, television has
been blamed for corrupting our youth and exciting
(Line 10) our adults, distorting reality, and basically being a
big, perhaps dangerous, waste of time. Before TV,
radio and film were accused of the same things. And
long before that—in fact, some 2,500 years earlier—
philosophers were arguing that poetry and drama
(Line 15) should be excluded from any ideal city on much the
same grounds.
In Book 10 of the Republic, Plato (428-348 B.C.)
attacks epic poet Homer (c. 850 B.C.) and the tragedians
on several grounds, all of which have a familiar
(Line 20) ring. “Their productions are appearances and not realities,”
he gripes. “Drawing, and in fact all imitation . . . [is] quite
removed from the truth.” The audience, as well as the art
form, troubled Plato, whose remarks are colored by an
implied disdain for the popularity of public performances.
(Line 25) The “common people,” as Plato so charitably calls them,
are drawn to “peevish and diverse” characters—such as
Odysseus and other heroes in the Iliad and the Odyssey—
who (to Plato, anyway) engage in such questionable
displays of emotion as “spinning out a long melancholy
(Line 30) lamentation” or “disfiguring themselves in grief.” To
Plato, baring such intimate sorrows is not to be condoned.
(Clearly, he would have given thumbs down to the central
characters of Shakespeare’s Hamlet and Macbeth.) “If you
receive the pleasure-seasoned Muse1 of song and epic,”
(Line 35) Plato warns, “pleasure and pain will be kings in your city,
instead of law.” Finally, Plato sums up his anti-arts argument
with the cold, sweeping pronouncement that “poetry
is not to be taken seriously.”
One academic who has studied and written extensively
(Line 40) about both Plato and television suggests that Plato, rather
than being anti-arts, was merely an elitist. Plato wanted
to ban poetry readings and live theater, the argument
goes, because, being free and accessible and raucous and
extremely popular, they were the mass entertainment
(Line 45) of that era. “If, instead of ‘tragedy’ and ‘poetry,’ and
‘Homer’ and ‘Aeschylus,’2 you read ‘mass entertainment’
or ‘popular media,’ you’ll recognize Plato’s arguments as
the ancestor of all the reasons we have today for being
suspicious of television.”
(Line 50) To wit: poetry, by which Plato means drama, confuses
us between appearance and reality. The action it presents
is too extreme and violent. Most important, it’s a corrupting
influence, perverting its audience by bombarding it
with inferior characters and vulgar subjects—and
(Line 55) constituting, in Plato’s own words, “a harm to the mind of
its audience.”
If Plato’s Republic had become reality, it would have
been a republic with a lot of empty libraries, theaters, and
museums—if, indeed, those repositories of the arts would
(Line 60) have survived at all. Plato’s personal utopia never came to
pass—but throughout the centuries, wherever and whenever
a new medium of artistic expression attracted a lot
of people, someone has been ready, waiting, and eager to
attack its content and fear its impact.
1 The Muses inspired poetry and song in Greek mythology.
2 Aeschylus (525-456 B.C.) was a Greek tragic dramatist.
The fourth paragraph (lines 50-56) indicates that
Plato’s principal objection to “poetry” (line 50)
was its
A. 
B. 
C. 
Depiction of turbulent events
D. 
Influence on people’s morals
E. 
Misrepresentation of historical figures
23.
The following passage is adapted from a book about
television and popular culture.
Ridiculing television, and warning about its inherent
evils, is nothing new. It has been that way since the
medium was invented, and television hasn’t exactly
been lavished with respect as the decades have passed.
(Line 5) I suspect, though, that a lot of the fear and loathing
directed at television comes out of a time-honored,
reflexive overreaction to the dominant medium of the
moment. For the past several decades, television has
been blamed for corrupting our youth and exciting
(Line 10) our adults, distorting reality, and basically being a
big, perhaps dangerous, waste of time. Before TV,
radio and film were accused of the same things. And
long before that—in fact, some 2,500 years earlier—
philosophers were arguing that poetry and drama
(Line 15) should be excluded from any ideal city on much the
same grounds.
In Book 10 of the Republic, Plato (428-348 B.C.)
attacks epic poet Homer (c. 850 B.C.) and the tragedians
on several grounds, all of which have a familiar
(Line 20) ring. “Their productions are appearances and not realities,”
he gripes. “Drawing, and in fact all imitation . . . [is] quite
removed from the truth.” The audience, as well as the art
form, troubled Plato, whose remarks are colored by an
implied disdain for the popularity of public performances.
(Line 25) The “common people,” as Plato so charitably calls them,
are drawn to “peevish and diverse” characters—such as
Odysseus and other heroes in the Iliad and the Odyssey—
who (to Plato, anyway) engage in such questionable
displays of emotion as “spinning out a long melancholy
(Line 30) lamentation” or “disfiguring themselves in grief.” To
Plato, baring such intimate sorrows is not to be condoned.
(Clearly, he would have given thumbs down to the central
characters of Shakespeare’s Hamlet and Macbeth.) “If you
receive the pleasure-seasoned Muse1 of song and epic,”
(Line 35) Plato warns, “pleasure and pain will be kings in your city,
instead of law.” Finally, Plato sums up his anti-arts argument
with the cold, sweeping pronouncement that “poetry
is not to be taken seriously.”
One academic who has studied and written extensively
(Line 40) about both Plato and television suggests that Plato, rather
than being anti-arts, was merely an elitist. Plato wanted
to ban poetry readings and live theater, the argument
goes, because, being free and accessible and raucous and
extremely popular, they were the mass entertainment
(Line 45) of that era. “If, instead of ‘tragedy’ and ‘poetry,’ and
‘Homer’ and ‘Aeschylus,’2 you read ‘mass entertainment’
or ‘popular media,’ you’ll recognize Plato’s arguments as
the ancestor of all the reasons we have today for being
suspicious of television.”
(Line 50) To wit: poetry, by which Plato means drama, confuses
us between appearance and reality. The action it presents
is too extreme and violent. Most important, it’s a corrupting
influence, perverting its audience by bombarding it
with inferior characters and vulgar subjects—and
(Line 55) constituting, in Plato’s own words, “a harm to the mind of
its audience.”
If Plato’s Republic had become reality, it would have
been a republic with a lot of empty libraries, theaters, and
museums—if, indeed, those repositories of the arts would
(Line 60) have survived at all. Plato’s personal utopia never came to
pass—but throughout the centuries, wherever and whenever
a new medium of artistic expression attracted a lot
of people, someone has been ready, waiting, and eager to
attack its content and fear its impact.
1 The Muses inspired poetry and song in Greek mythology.
2 Aeschylus (525-456 B.C.) was a Greek tragic dramatist.
The author of the passage would probably agree with
which of the following statements about the “utopia”
referred to in line 60 ?
A. 
It would have encouraged new artistic ventures.
B. 
It would have stifled human creativity.
C. 
It is an ideal that we should continue to work towards.
D. 
It may come to pass because of the popularity of television.
E. 
It was a notion rejected by Greek philosophers.
24.
The following passage is adapted from a book about
television and popular culture.
Ridiculing television, and warning about its inherent
evils, is nothing new. It has been that way since the
medium was invented, and television hasn’t exactly
been lavished with respect as the decades have passed.
(Line 5) I suspect, though, that a lot of the fear and loathing
directed at television comes out of a time-honored,
reflexive overreaction to the dominant medium of the
moment. For the past several decades, television has
been blamed for corrupting our youth and exciting
(Line 10) our adults, distorting reality, and basically being a
big, perhaps dangerous, waste of time. Before TV,
radio and film were accused of the same things. And
long before that—in fact, some 2,500 years earlier—
philosophers were arguing that poetry and drama
(Line 15) should be excluded from any ideal city on much the
same grounds.
In Book 10 of the Republic, Plato (428-348 B.C.)
attacks epic poet Homer (c. 850 B.C.) and the tragedians
on several grounds, all of which have a familiar
(Line 20) ring. “Their productions are appearances and not realities,”
he gripes. “Drawing, and in fact all imitation . . . [is] quite
removed from the truth.” The audience, as well as the art
form, troubled Plato, whose remarks are colored by an
implied disdain for the popularity of public performances.
(Line 25) The “common people,” as Plato so charitably calls them,
are drawn to “peevish and diverse” characters—such as
Odysseus and other heroes in the Iliad and the Odyssey—
who (to Plato, anyway) engage in such questionable
displays of emotion as “spinning out a long melancholy
(Line 30) lamentation” or “disfiguring themselves in grief.” To
Plato, baring such intimate sorrows is not to be condoned.
(Clearly, he would have given thumbs down to the central
characters of Shakespeare’s Hamlet and Macbeth.) “If you
receive the pleasure-seasoned Muse1 of song and epic,”
(Line 35) Plato warns, “pleasure and pain will be kings in your city,
instead of law.” Finally, Plato sums up his anti-arts argument
with the cold, sweeping pronouncement that “poetry
is not to be taken seriously.”
One academic who has studied and written extensively
(Line 40) about both Plato and television suggests that Plato, rather
than being anti-arts, was merely an elitist. Plato wanted
to ban poetry readings and live theater, the argument
goes, because, being free and accessible and raucous and
extremely popular, they were the mass entertainment
(Line 45) of that era. “If, instead of ‘tragedy’ and ‘poetry,’ and
‘Homer’ and ‘Aeschylus,’2 you read ‘mass entertainment’
or ‘popular media,’ you’ll recognize Plato’s arguments as
the ancestor of all the reasons we have today for being
suspicious of television.”
(Line 50) To wit: poetry, by which Plato means drama, confuses
us between appearance and reality. The action it presents
is too extreme and violent. Most important, it’s a corrupting
influence, perverting its audience by bombarding it
with inferior characters and vulgar subjects—and
(Line 55) constituting, in Plato’s own words, “a harm to the mind of
its audience.”
If Plato’s Republic had become reality, it would have
been a republic with a lot of empty libraries, theaters, and
museums—if, indeed, those repositories of the arts would
(Line 60) have survived at all. Plato’s personal utopia never came to
pass—but throughout the centuries, wherever and whenever
a new medium of artistic expression attracted a lot
of people, someone has been ready, waiting, and eager to
attack its content and fear its impact.
1 The Muses inspired poetry and song in Greek mythology.
2 Aeschylus (525-456 B.C.) was a Greek tragic dramatist.
The comment about “a new medium of artistic
expression” (line 62) primarily suggests that
A. 
The author holds a fatalistic view of the future for artistic expression
B. 
Certain societies in the past have been slow to accept new art forms
C. 
People often disguise their true feelings when it comes to art
D. 
The popular response to a new art form will often overcome opposition to it
E. 
A popular new art form will always receive some form of negative response