Due: 17/05 (Issued: 11/05)
Read Source A (Paper 2. Question 1)
Choose four statements below which are TRUE. Shade the boxes of the ones that you think are true. Choose a maximum of four statements.
- Crooks bunks in a lean-to that doubles up as the harness room
- The wall by the window only bears broken harnesses
- His curved knives and needles and the hand riveter are stored in a box under the window
- Crooks stores medicine for himself and the horses together above his bed
- Cans contain soap and tar
- His books include a doctrine on penal codes
- Crooks has a detached personality and an intense gaze
- The stable buck’s room is filled with yellow light
- Read Source B (Paper 1. Question 1) List four things from this part of the text about Crooks and Lennie.
Read Source C (Paper 2. Question 4. )
For this question, you need to refer to source B, lines 9 to the end, together with the whole of source C. The writer has shown how the characters attempt to assert their power over each other. Compare how Steinbeck conveys these relationships.
In your answer, you should:
- compare the different relationships
- compare the methods Steinbeck uses to convey the relationships
- support your ideas with quotations from both texts.
Musts for Paper 2. Question 4.
- Full sentences.
- Two RACERS paragraphs – 5/8 sentences per paragraph.
- Three RACERS paragraphs
Crooks, the Negro stable buck, had his bunk in the harness room; a little shed that leaned off the wall of the barn. On one side of the little room there was a square four-paned window, and on the other, a narrow plank door leading into the barn. Crooks’ bunk was a long box filled with straw, on which his blankets were flung. On the wall by the window there were pegs on which hung broken harness in process of being mended; strips of new leather; and under the window itself a little bench for leather-working tools, curved knives and needles and balls of linen thread, and a small hand riveter. On pegs were also pieces of harness, a split collar with the horsehair stuffing sticking out, a broken hame, and a trace chain with its leather covering split. Crooks had his apple box over his bunk, and in it a range of medicine bottles, both for himself and for the horses. There were cans of saddle soap and a drippy can of tar with its paint brush sticking over the edge. And scattered about the floor were a number of personal possessions; for, being alone, Crooks could leave his things about, and being a stable buck and a cripple, he was more permanent than the other men, and he had accumulated more possessions than he could carry on his back.
Crooks possessed several pairs of shoes, a pair of rubber boots, a big alarm clock and a single-barreled shotgun. And he had books, too; a tattered dictionary and a mauled copy of the California civil code for 19O5. There were battered magazines and a few dirty books on a special shelf over his bunk. A pair of large gold-rimmed spectacles hung from a nail on the wall above his bed.
This room was swept and fairly neat, for Crooks was a proud, aloof man. He kept his distance and demanded that other people keep theirs. His body was bent over to the left by his crooked spine, and his eyes lay deep in his head, and because of their depth seemed to glitter with intensity. His lean face was lined with deep black wrinkles, and he had thin, pain-tightened lips which were lighter than his face.
It was Saturday night. Through the open door that led into the barn came the sound of moving horses, of feet stirring, of teeth champing on hay, of the rattle of halter chains. In the stable buck’s room a small electric globe threw a meagre yellow light.
Crooks sat on his bunk. His shirt was out of his jeans in back. In one hand he held a bottle of liniment, and with the other he rubbed his spine. Now and then he poured a few drops of the liniment into his pink-palmed hand and reached up under his shirt to rub again. He flexed his muscles against his back and shivered.
Noiselessly Lennie appeared in the open doorway and stood there looking in, his big shoulders nearly filling the opening. For a moment Crooks did not see him, but on raising his eyes he stiffened and a scowl came on his face. His hand came out from under his shirt.
Lennie smiled helplessly in an attempt to make friends.
Crooks said sharply, “You got no right to come in my room. This here’s my room. Nobody got any right in here but me.”
Lennie gulped and his smile grew more fawning. “I ain’t doing nothing,” he said. “Just come to look at my puppy. And I seen your light,” he explained.
“Well, I got a right to have a light. You go on get outa my room. I ain’t wanted in the bunkhouse, and you ain’t wanted in my room.”
“Why ain’t you wanted?” Lennie asked.
“‘Cause I’m black. They play cards in there, but I can’t play because I’m black. They say I stink. Well, I tell you, you all of you stink to me.”
Crooks stood up from his bunk and faced her. “I had enough,” he said coldly. “You got no rights comin’ in a colored man’s room. You got no rights messing around in here at all. Now you jus’ get out, an’ get out quick. If you don’t, I’m gonna ast the boss not to ever let you come in the barn no more.”
She turned on him in scorn. “Listen, Nigger,” she said. “You know what I can do to you if you open your trap?”
Crooks stared hopelessly at her, and then he sat down on his bunk and drew into himself.
She closed on him. “You know what I could do?”
Crooks seemed to grow smaller, and he pressed himself against the wall. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, you keep your place then, Nigger. I could get you strung up on a tree so easy it ain’t even funny.”
Crooks had reduced himself to nothing. There was no personality, no ego- nothing to arouse either like or dislike. He said, “Yes, ma’am,” and his voice was toneless.
For a moment she stood over him as though waiting for him to move so that she could whip at him again; but Crooks sat perfectly still, his eyes averted, everything that might be hurt drawn in. She turned at last to the other two.
Old Candy was watching her, fascinated. “If you was to do that, we’d tell,” he said quietly. “We’d tell about you framin’ Crooks.”
“Tell an’ be damned,” she cried. “Nobody’d listen to you, an’ you know it. Nobody’d listen to you.”
Candy subsided. “No….” he agreed. “Nobody’d listen to us.”