Tone Based Ques...

Directions: Read the passage carefully and answer the questions that follow.

Mildred reads Mein Kampf. Hitler’s book has been published in two volumes, the first in 1925, the second in 1926. In 1932, it isn’t read widely in Germany—not yet. An English translation hasn’t been published yet either. Mildred worries that Americans don’t understand how dangerous Hitler is. Germans don’t understand either.

Too many are dismissive. Most major German newspapers declined to run reviews of Mein Kampf when the book was published. One newspaper predicted that Hitler’s political career would be “completely finished” after people read his ramblings. Another mocked Hitler’s “fuzzy mind.” Even Nazis and right-wing nationalists took potshots. The pro-Nazi newspaper Deutsche Zeitung sneered at Hitler’s “illogical ranting.” The nationalist newspaper Neue Preussliche Zeitung fumed: “One seeks ingenuity and finds only arrogance, one seeks stimulation and reaps boredom, one seeks love and enthusiasm and finds platitudes, one seeks healthy hatred and finds insults.… Is this the book for the German people? That would be dreadful!” When Hitler bragged that all of Germany was eagerly anticipating his book, the anti-Semitic newspaper Das Bayerische Vaterland scoffed at Hitler’s egomania.

“O how modest! Why not the entire universe?” Cartoons gleefully mocked Hitler. The popular magazine Simplicissimus ran a derisive front-page caricature of Hitler peddling Mein Kampf to uninterested customers in a beer hall. It was at a beer hall in Munich, the Hofbräuhaus, where Hitler, age thirty, delivered one of his first significant speeches.

The occasion was a meeting held on February 24, 1920, by the German Workers’ Party, an obscure political party with only 190 members, Hitler among them. Hitler had fought in the First World War and was still in the army, working in the intelligence department of the Reichswehr. He had a dim view of the German Workers’ Party steering committee, a bickering bunch of drones who chose a priggish doctor to deliver the first speech. When the doctor was done, Hitler leaped onto a long table positioned smack in the middle of the crowd.

His oratorical style was provocative, his language colloquial and at times coarse. He hollered insults at politicians, capitalists, and Jews. He castigated the Reich finance minister for supporting the Treaty of Versailles, a humiliating concession to the victors of the war that would bring Germans to their knees, he warned, unless they fought back. “Our motto is only struggle!” Hitler cried. The beer-hall crowd, a fizzy mix of working-class and middle-class men, erupted—some cheering, some jeering. His controversial speeches fueled attendance at future meetings of the German Workers’ Party, which grew to 3,300 members by the end of 1921, at which point it had a new name, the National Socialist German Workers’ Party, nicknamed the Nazi Party. It also had a new chairman, Hitler, who gave himself a new title: Führer (Leader).

Directions: Read the passage carefully and answer the questions that follow.

Mildred reads Mein Kampf. Hitler’s book has been published in two volumes, the first in 1925, the second in 1926. In 1932, it isn’t read widely in Germany—not yet. An English translation hasn’t been published yet either. Mildred worries that Americans don’t understand how dangerous Hitler is. Germans don’t understand either.

Too many are dismissive. Most major German newspapers declined to run reviews of Mein Kampf when the book was published. One newspaper predicted that Hitler’s political career would be “completely finished” after people read his ramblings. Another mocked Hitler’s “fuzzy mind.” Even Nazis and right-wing nationalists took potshots. The pro-Nazi newspaper Deutsche Zeitung sneered at Hitler’s “illogical ranting.” The nationalist newspaper Neue Preussliche Zeitung fumed: “One seeks ingenuity and finds only arrogance, one seeks stimulation and reaps boredom, one seeks love and enthusiasm and finds platitudes, one seeks healthy hatred and finds insults.… Is this the book for the German people? That would be dreadful!” When Hitler bragged that all of Germany was eagerly anticipating his book, the anti-Semitic newspaper Das Bayerische Vaterland scoffed at Hitler’s egomania.

“O how modest! Why not the entire universe?” Cartoons gleefully mocked Hitler. The popular magazine Simplicissimus ran a derisive front-page caricature of Hitler peddling Mein Kampf to uninterested customers in a beer hall. It was at a beer hall in Munich, the Hofbräuhaus, where Hitler, age thirty, delivered one of his first significant speeches.

The occasion was a meeting held on February 24, 1920, by the German Workers’ Party, an obscure political party with only 190 members, Hitler among them. Hitler had fought in the First World War and was still in the army, working in the intelligence department of the Reichswehr. He had a dim view of the German Workers’ Party steering committee, a bickering bunch of drones who chose a priggish doctor to deliver the first speech. When the doctor was done, Hitler leaped onto a long table positioned smack in the middle of the crowd.

His oratorical style was provocative, his language colloquial and at times coarse. He hollered insults at politicians, capitalists, and Jews. He castigated the Reich finance minister for supporting the Treaty of Versailles, a humiliating concession to the victors of the war that would bring Germans to their knees, he warned, unless they fought back. “Our motto is only struggle!” Hitler cried. The beer-hall crowd, a fizzy mix of working-class and middle-class men, erupted—some cheering, some jeering. His controversial speeches fueled attendance at future meetings of the German Workers’ Party, which grew to 3,300 members by the end of 1921, at which point it had a new name, the National Socialist German Workers’ Party, nicknamed the Nazi Party. It also had a new chairman, Hitler, who gave himself a new title: Führer (Leader).

Directions: Read the passage carefully and answer the questions that follow.

Mildred reads Mein Kampf. Hitler’s book has been published in two volumes, the first in 1925, the second in 1926. In 1932, it isn’t read widely in Germany—not yet. An English translation hasn’t been published yet either. Mildred worries that Americans don’t understand how dangerous Hitler is. Germans don’t understand either.

Too many are dismissive. Most major German newspapers declined to run reviews of Mein Kampf when the book was published. One newspaper predicted that Hitler’s political career would be “completely finished” after people read his ramblings. Another mocked Hitler’s “fuzzy mind.” Even Nazis and right-wing nationalists took potshots. The pro-Nazi newspaper Deutsche Zeitung sneered at Hitler’s “illogical ranting.” The nationalist newspaper Neue Preussliche Zeitung fumed: “One seeks ingenuity and finds only arrogance, one seeks stimulation and reaps boredom, one seeks love and enthusiasm and finds platitudes, one seeks healthy hatred and finds insults.… Is this the book for the German people? That would be dreadful!” When Hitler bragged that all of Germany was eagerly anticipating his book, the anti-Semitic newspaper Das Bayerische Vaterland scoffed at Hitler’s egomania.

“O how modest! Why not the entire universe?” Cartoons gleefully mocked Hitler. The popular magazine Simplicissimus ran a derisive front-page caricature of Hitler peddling Mein Kampf to uninterested customers in a beer hall. It was at a beer hall in Munich, the Hofbräuhaus, where Hitler, age thirty, delivered one of his first significant speeches.

The occasion was a meeting held on February 24, 1920, by the German Workers’ Party, an obscure political party with only 190 members, Hitler among them. Hitler had fought in the First World War and was still in the army, working in the intelligence department of the Reichswehr. He had a dim view of the German Workers’ Party steering committee, a bickering bunch of drones who chose a priggish doctor to deliver the first speech. When the doctor was done, Hitler leaped onto a long table positioned smack in the middle of the crowd.

His oratorical style was provocative, his language colloquial and at times coarse. He hollered insults at politicians, capitalists, and Jews. He castigated the Reich finance minister for supporting the Treaty of Versailles, a humiliating concession to the victors of the war that would bring Germans to their knees, he warned, unless they fought back. “Our motto is only struggle!” Hitler cried. The beer-hall crowd, a fizzy mix of working-class and middle-class men, erupted—some cheering, some jeering. His controversial speeches fueled attendance at future meetings of the German Workers’ Party, which grew to 3,300 members by the end of 1921, at which point it had a new name, the National Socialist German Workers’ Party, nicknamed the Nazi Party. It also had a new chairman, Hitler, who gave himself a new title: Führer (Leader).

Directions: Read the passage carefully and answer the questions that follow.

Mildred reads Mein Kampf. Hitler’s book has been published in two volumes, the first in 1925, the second in 1926. In 1932, it isn’t read widely in Germany—not yet. An English translation hasn’t been published yet either. Mildred worries that Americans don’t understand how dangerous Hitler is. Germans don’t understand either.

Too many are dismissive. Most major German newspapers declined to run reviews of Mein Kampf when the book was published. One newspaper predicted that Hitler’s political career would be “completely finished” after people read his ramblings. Another mocked Hitler’s “fuzzy mind.” Even Nazis and right-wing nationalists took potshots. The pro-Nazi newspaper Deutsche Zeitung sneered at Hitler’s “illogical ranting.” The nationalist newspaper Neue Preussliche Zeitung fumed: “One seeks ingenuity and finds only arrogance, one seeks stimulation and reaps boredom, one seeks love and enthusiasm and finds platitudes, one seeks healthy hatred and finds insults.… Is this the book for the German people? That would be dreadful!” When Hitler bragged that all of Germany was eagerly anticipating his book, the anti-Semitic newspaper Das Bayerische Vaterland scoffed at Hitler’s egomania.

“O how modest! Why not the entire universe?” Cartoons gleefully mocked Hitler. The popular magazine Simplicissimus ran a derisive front-page caricature of Hitler peddling Mein Kampf to uninterested customers in a beer hall. It was at a beer hall in Munich, the Hofbräuhaus, where Hitler, age thirty, delivered one of his first significant speeches.

The occasion was a meeting held on February 24, 1920, by the German Workers’ Party, an obscure political party with only 190 members, Hitler among them. Hitler had fought in the First World War and was still in the army, working in the intelligence department of the Reichswehr. He had a dim view of the German Workers’ Party steering committee, a bickering bunch of drones who chose a priggish doctor to deliver the first speech. When the doctor was done, Hitler leaped onto a long table positioned smack in the middle of the crowd.

His oratorical style was provocative, his language colloquial and at times coarse. He hollered insults at politicians, capitalists, and Jews. He castigated the Reich finance minister for supporting the Treaty of Versailles, a humiliating concession to the victors of the war that would bring Germans to their knees, he warned, unless they fought back. “Our motto is only struggle!” Hitler cried. The beer-hall crowd, a fizzy mix of working-class and middle-class men, erupted—some cheering, some jeering. His controversial speeches fueled attendance at future meetings of the German Workers’ Party, which grew to 3,300 members by the end of 1921, at which point it had a new name, the National Socialist German Workers’ Party, nicknamed the Nazi Party. It also had a new chairman, Hitler, who gave himself a new title: Führer (Leader).

Directions: Read the passage carefully and answer the questions that follow.

Mildred reads Mein Kampf. Hitler’s book has been published in two volumes, the first in 1925, the second in 1926. In 1932, it isn’t read widely in Germany—not yet. An English translation hasn’t been published yet either. Mildred worries that Americans don’t understand how dangerous Hitler is. Germans don’t understand either.

Too many are dismissive. Most major German newspapers declined to run reviews of Mein Kampf when the book was published. One newspaper predicted that Hitler’s political career would be “completely finished” after people read his ramblings. Another mocked Hitler’s “fuzzy mind.” Even Nazis and right-wing nationalists took potshots. The pro-Nazi newspaper Deutsche Zeitung sneered at Hitler’s “illogical ranting.” The nationalist newspaper Neue Preussliche Zeitung fumed: “One seeks ingenuity and finds only arrogance, one seeks stimulation and reaps boredom, one seeks love and enthusiasm and finds platitudes, one seeks healthy hatred and finds insults.… Is this the book for the German people? That would be dreadful!” When Hitler bragged that all of Germany was eagerly anticipating his book, the anti-Semitic newspaper Das Bayerische Vaterland scoffed at Hitler’s egomania.

“O how modest! Why not the entire universe?” Cartoons gleefully mocked Hitler. The popular magazine Simplicissimus ran a derisive front-page caricature of Hitler peddling Mein Kampf to uninterested customers in a beer hall. It was at a beer hall in Munich, the Hofbräuhaus, where Hitler, age thirty, delivered one of his first significant speeches.

The occasion was a meeting held on February 24, 1920, by the German Workers’ Party, an obscure political party with only 190 members, Hitler among them. Hitler had fought in the First World War and was still in the army, working in the intelligence department of the Reichswehr. He had a dim view of the German Workers’ Party steering committee, a bickering bunch of drones who chose a priggish doctor to deliver the first speech. When the doctor was done, Hitler leaped onto a long table positioned smack in the middle of the crowd.

His oratorical style was provocative, his language colloquial and at times coarse. He hollered insults at politicians, capitalists, and Jews. He castigated the Reich finance minister for supporting the Treaty of Versailles, a humiliating concession to the victors of the war that would bring Germans to their knees, he warned, unless they fought back. “Our motto is only struggle!” Hitler cried. The beer-hall crowd, a fizzy mix of working-class and middle-class men, erupted—some cheering, some jeering. His controversial speeches fueled attendance at future meetings of the German Workers’ Party, which grew to 3,300 members by the end of 1921, at which point it had a new name, the National Socialist German Workers’ Party, nicknamed the Nazi Party. It also had a new chairman, Hitler, who gave himself a new title: Führer (Leader).

Directions: Read the passage carefully and answer the questions that follow.

Friedan thought that these students would live to regret not taking advantage of their education, because they would have no resources for pursuing work or other activities outside the home. “Perhaps the girls might listen to 200 women who are leading the very lives they want to lead—the women of my own Smith generation,” she concluded her article. “We could tell the pretty girls of Smith ’59 and ’60—and all the other girls on all the other campuses who are wasting their time in college today—that they have it all wrong  … I think it’s high time someone questioned the truth of this picture that is making the girls waste time in college.”76 It’s not hard to see why this article was rejected by McCall’s, Ladies’ Home Journal, and Redbook.  

Friedan was not saying that suburban housewives were frustrated. She was saying that contemporary women college students were mindless. She was attacking the next generation of subscribers. In the Smith alumnae magazine, Friedan reported that, based on the questionnaire, the education she and her classmates received had not prevented them from achieving sexual fulfillment or enjoying motherhood.

A majority of her respondents reported that they were “not frustrated” as housewives; 74 percent said they had “satisfying interests beyond our homes or within ourselves—the serious interests our education gave us.” Their only regret was that they had not worked harder in college.77 By the time that article appeared, the manuscript of The Feminine Mystique was almost finished.

Friedan originally had a very different book in mind. It was to be called “The Togetherness Woman,” and was designed as an attack on this product of what she called “the sexual counter-revolution.” The term “togetherness” derived from McCall’s, which in 1954 started calling itself “the magazine of togetherness.” Editorially, the idea was that McCall’s would be a magazine for the nuclear family as a whole, not just the housewife.

This was, of course, a strategy to attract advertisers by providing a wider readership base. Friedan thought that the term captured the trap she saw Smith students entering. In a book proposal, she explained that “The Togetherness Woman” would make “the heretical suggestion that ‘togetherness’ is a form of revenge—women making their husbands share the meaningless tasks of their role.” It’s easy to see what was happening.

At her reunion, Friedan had been confronted with young women who identified self-fulfillment as “togetherness” and who saw their education as a way station to marriage. What shocked her was that these women were not being coerced into an unfulfilling life. They wanted that life. They had a very clear picture of what it would be like, including the probability that it would require some pretense of subordination to their husbands, and they were actively choosing it.

Directions: Read the passage carefully and answer the questions that follow.

Friedan thought that these students would live to regret not taking advantage of their education, because they would have no resources for pursuing work or other activities outside the home. “Perhaps the girls might listen to 200 women who are leading the very lives they want to lead—the women of my own Smith generation,” she concluded her article. “We could tell the pretty girls of Smith ’59 and ’60—and all the other girls on all the other campuses who are wasting their time in college today—that they have it all wrong  … I think it’s high time someone questioned the truth of this picture that is making the girls waste time in college.”76 It’s not hard to see why this article was rejected by McCall’s, Ladies’ Home Journal, and Redbook.  

Friedan was not saying that suburban housewives were frustrated. She was saying that contemporary women college students were mindless. She was attacking the next generation of subscribers. In the Smith alumnae magazine, Friedan reported that, based on the questionnaire, the education she and her classmates received had not prevented them from achieving sexual fulfillment or enjoying motherhood.

A majority of her respondents reported that they were “not frustrated” as housewives; 74 percent said they had “satisfying interests beyond our homes or within ourselves—the serious interests our education gave us.” Their only regret was that they had not worked harder in college.77 By the time that article appeared, the manuscript of The Feminine Mystique was almost finished.

Friedan originally had a very different book in mind. It was to be called “The Togetherness Woman,” and was designed as an attack on this product of what she called “the sexual counter-revolution.” The term “togetherness” derived from McCall’s, which in 1954 started calling itself “the magazine of togetherness.” Editorially, the idea was that McCall’s would be a magazine for the nuclear family as a whole, not just the housewife.

This was, of course, a strategy to attract advertisers by providing a wider readership base. Friedan thought that the term captured the trap she saw Smith students entering. In a book proposal, she explained that “The Togetherness Woman” would make “the heretical suggestion that ‘togetherness’ is a form of revenge—women making their husbands share the meaningless tasks of their role.” It’s easy to see what was happening.

At her reunion, Friedan had been confronted with young women who identified self-fulfillment as “togetherness” and who saw their education as a way station to marriage. What shocked her was that these women were not being coerced into an unfulfilling life. They wanted that life. They had a very clear picture of what it would be like, including the probability that it would require some pretense of subordination to their husbands, and they were actively choosing it.

Directions: Read the passage carefully and answer the questions that follow.

Friedan thought that these students would live to regret not taking advantage of their education, because they would have no resources for pursuing work or other activities outside the home. “Perhaps the girls might listen to 200 women who are leading the very lives they want to lead—the women of my own Smith generation,” she concluded her article. “We could tell the pretty girls of Smith ’59 and ’60—and all the other girls on all the other campuses who are wasting their time in college today—that they have it all wrong  … I think it’s high time someone questioned the truth of this picture that is making the girls waste time in college.”76 It’s not hard to see why this article was rejected by McCall’s, Ladies’ Home Journal, and Redbook.  

Friedan was not saying that suburban housewives were frustrated. She was saying that contemporary women college students were mindless. She was attacking the next generation of subscribers. In the Smith alumnae magazine, Friedan reported that, based on the questionnaire, the education she and her classmates received had not prevented them from achieving sexual fulfillment or enjoying motherhood.

A majority of her respondents reported that they were “not frustrated” as housewives; 74 percent said they had “satisfying interests beyond our homes or within ourselves—the serious interests our education gave us.” Their only regret was that they had not worked harder in college.77 By the time that article appeared, the manuscript of The Feminine Mystique was almost finished.

Friedan originally had a very different book in mind. It was to be called “The Togetherness Woman,” and was designed as an attack on this product of what she called “the sexual counter-revolution.” The term “togetherness” derived from McCall’s, which in 1954 started calling itself “the magazine of togetherness.” Editorially, the idea was that McCall’s would be a magazine for the nuclear family as a whole, not just the housewife.

This was, of course, a strategy to attract advertisers by providing a wider readership base. Friedan thought that the term captured the trap she saw Smith students entering. In a book proposal, she explained that “The Togetherness Woman” would make “the heretical suggestion that ‘togetherness’ is a form of revenge—women making their husbands share the meaningless tasks of their role.” It’s easy to see what was happening.

At her reunion, Friedan had been confronted with young women who identified self-fulfillment as “togetherness” and who saw their education as a way station to marriage. What shocked her was that these women were not being coerced into an unfulfilling life. They wanted that life. They had a very clear picture of what it would be like, including the probability that it would require some pretense of subordination to their husbands, and they were actively choosing it.

Directions: Read the passage carefully and answer the questions that follow.

Friedan thought that these students would live to regret not taking advantage of their education, because they would have no resources for pursuing work or other activities outside the home. “Perhaps the girls might listen to 200 women who are leading the very lives they want to lead—the women of my own Smith generation,” she concluded her article. “We could tell the pretty girls of Smith ’59 and ’60—and all the other girls on all the other campuses who are wasting their time in college today—that they have it all wrong  … I think it’s high time someone questioned the truth of this picture that is making the girls waste time in college.”76 It’s not hard to see why this article was rejected by McCall’s, Ladies’ Home Journal, and Redbook.  

Friedan was not saying that suburban housewives were frustrated. She was saying that contemporary women college students were mindless. She was attacking the next generation of subscribers. In the Smith alumnae magazine, Friedan reported that, based on the questionnaire, the education she and her classmates received had not prevented them from achieving sexual fulfillment or enjoying motherhood.

A majority of her respondents reported that they were “not frustrated” as housewives; 74 percent said they had “satisfying interests beyond our homes or within ourselves—the serious interests our education gave us.” Their only regret was that they had not worked harder in college.77 By the time that article appeared, the manuscript of The Feminine Mystique was almost finished.

Friedan originally had a very different book in mind. It was to be called “The Togetherness Woman,” and was designed as an attack on this product of what she called “the sexual counter-revolution.” The term “togetherness” derived from McCall’s, which in 1954 started calling itself “the magazine of togetherness.” Editorially, the idea was that McCall’s would be a magazine for the nuclear family as a whole, not just the housewife.

This was, of course, a strategy to attract advertisers by providing a wider readership base. Friedan thought that the term captured the trap she saw Smith students entering. In a book proposal, she explained that “The Togetherness Woman” would make “the heretical suggestion that ‘togetherness’ is a form of revenge—women making their husbands share the meaningless tasks of their role.” It’s easy to see what was happening.

At her reunion, Friedan had been confronted with young women who identified self-fulfillment as “togetherness” and who saw their education as a way station to marriage. What shocked her was that these women were not being coerced into an unfulfilling life. They wanted that life. They had a very clear picture of what it would be like, including the probability that it would require some pretense of subordination to their husbands, and they were actively choosing it.

Directions: Read the passage carefully and answer the questions that follow.

Friedan thought that these students would live to regret not taking advantage of their education, because they would have no resources for pursuing work or other activities outside the home. “Perhaps the girls might listen to 200 women who are leading the very lives they want to lead—the women of my own Smith generation,” she concluded her article. “We could tell the pretty girls of Smith ’59 and ’60—and all the other girls on all the other campuses who are wasting their time in college today—that they have it all wrong  … I think it’s high time someone questioned the truth of this picture that is making the girls waste time in college.”76 It’s not hard to see why this article was rejected by McCall’s, Ladies’ Home Journal, and Redbook.  

Friedan was not saying that suburban housewives were frustrated. She was saying that contemporary women college students were mindless. She was attacking the next generation of subscribers. In the Smith alumnae magazine, Friedan reported that, based on the questionnaire, the education she and her classmates received had not prevented them from achieving sexual fulfillment or enjoying motherhood.

A majority of her respondents reported that they were “not frustrated” as housewives; 74 percent said they had “satisfying interests beyond our homes or within ourselves—the serious interests our education gave us.” Their only regret was that they had not worked harder in college.77 By the time that article appeared, the manuscript of The Feminine Mystique was almost finished.

Friedan originally had a very different book in mind. It was to be called “The Togetherness Woman,” and was designed as an attack on this product of what she called “the sexual counter-revolution.” The term “togetherness” derived from McCall’s, which in 1954 started calling itself “the magazine of togetherness.” Editorially, the idea was that McCall’s would be a magazine for the nuclear family as a whole, not just the housewife.

This was, of course, a strategy to attract advertisers by providing a wider readership base. Friedan thought that the term captured the trap she saw Smith students entering. In a book proposal, she explained that “The Togetherness Woman” would make “the heretical suggestion that ‘togetherness’ is a form of revenge—women making their husbands share the meaningless tasks of their role.” It’s easy to see what was happening.

At her reunion, Friedan had been confronted with young women who identified self-fulfillment as “togetherness” and who saw their education as a way station to marriage. What shocked her was that these women were not being coerced into an unfulfilling life. They wanted that life. They had a very clear picture of what it would be like, including the probability that it would require some pretense of subordination to their husbands, and they were actively choosing it.