Global Test Academy

SAT Pastpaper with Solutions

Total 52 questions
00:00:00 / 01:04:00

Chapter 115

2022 : C

READING1 · 52 questions

1
Tools:

Chapter 115 · 2022 : C · READING1

Even then my only friends were made of paper and ink. At school I had learned to read and writelong before the other children. Where my school Line friends saw notches of ink on incomprehensible5 pages, I saw light, streets, and people. Words and the mystery of their hidden science fascinated me, and I saw in them akey with which I could unlock aboundless world,a safe haven from that home, those streets, and those troubled days in which even I10 could sense that only a limited fortune awaited me. My father didn’t like to see books in the house.There was something about them—apart from the letters he could not decipher—that offended him.He used to tell me that as soon as I was ten he would15 send me off to work and that I’d better get rid of allmy scatterbrained ideas if I didn’t want to end up aloser,a nobody. I used to hide my books under the mattress and wait for him to go out or fall asleep so that I could read. Once he caught me reading at night20 and flew into a rage. He tore the book from my hands and flung it out of the window.“If I catch you wasting electricity again, reading all this nonsense, you’ll be sorry.”My father was not a miser and, despite the25 hardships we suffered, whenever he could he gave me a few coins so that I could buy myself some treats like the other children. He was convinced that I spentthem on licorice sticks, sunflower seeds, or sweets, but I would keep them in a coffee tin under the bed,30 and when I’d collected four or five reales I’d secretly rush out to buy myself a book.My favorite place in the whole city was theSempere & Sons bookshop on Calle Santa Ana. It smelled of old paper and dust and it was my35 sanctuary, my refuge. The bookseller would let me sit on a chair in a corner and read any book I liked tomy heart’s content. He hardly ever allowed me to pay for the books he placed in my hands, but when hewasn’tlooking I’d leave the coins I’d managed to40 collect on the counter before I left. It was only small change—if I’d had to buy a book with that pittance, I would probably have been able to afford only abooklet of cigarette papers. When it was time for me to leave, I would do so dragging my feet,a weight on45 my soul. If it had been up to me, I would have stayed there forever.One Christmas Sempere gave me the best gift I have ever received. It was an old volume, read and experienced to the full.50 “Great Expectations, by Charles Dickens,” I read on the cover.I was aware that Sempere knew a few authors who frequented his establishment and, judging by the care with which he handled the volume, I thought55 perhaps this Mr. Dickens was one of them. “A friend of yours?”“A lifelong friend. And from now on, he’s your friend too.” That afternoon I took my new friend home,60 hidden under my clothes so that my father wouldn’t see it. It was a rainy winter, with days as gray as lead, and I read Great Expectations about nine times,partly because I had no other book at hand, partlybecause I did not think there could be a better one in65 the whole world and I was beginning to suspect that Mr. Dickens had written it just for me. Soon I was convinced that I didn’t want to do anything else in life but learn to do what Mr. Dickens had done.

Over the course of the passage, the main focus shifts from a


1 / 52