2008年专四阅读翻译

　　TEXT C

　　My heart sank when the man at the immigration counter gestured to the back room. I’m an American born and raised, and this was Miami, where I live, but they weren’t quite ready to let me in yet.

　　“Please wait in here, Ms Abujaber,” the immigration officer said. My husband, with his very American last name, accompanied me. He was getting used to this. The same thing had happened recently in Canada when I’d flown to Montreal to speak at a book event. That time they held me for 45 minutes. Today we were returning from a literary festival in Jamaica, and I was startled that I was being sent “in back” once again.

　　The officer behind the counter called me up and said, “Miss, your name looks like the name of someone who’s on our wanted list. We’re going to have to check you out with Washington.”

　　“How long will it take?”

　　“Hard to say ... a few minutes,” he said. “We’ll call you when we’re ready for you.”

　　After an hour, Washington still hadn’t decided anything about me. “Isn’t this computerized?” I asked at the counter. “Can’t you just look me up?”

　　Just a few more minutes, they assured me.

　　After an hour and a half, I pulled my cell phone out to call the friends I was supposed to meet that evening. An officer rushed over. “No phones!” he said. “For all we know you could be calling a terrorist cell and giving them information.”

　　“I’m just a university professor,” I said. My voice came out in a squeak.

　　“Of course you are. And we take people like you out of here in leg irons every day.”

　　I put my phone away.

　　My husband and I were getting hungry and tired. Whole families had been brought into the waiting room, and the place was packed with excitable children, exhausted parents, even a flight attendant.

　　I wanted to scream, to jump on a chair and shout: “I’m an American citizen; a novelist; I probably teach English literature to your children.” Or would that all be counted against me?

　　After two hours in detention, I was approached by one of the officers. “You’re free to go,” he said. No explanation or apologies. For a moment, neither of us moved, we were still in shock. Then we leaped to our feet.

　　“Oh, one more thing.” He handed me a tattered photocopy with an address on it. “If you weren’t happy with your treatment, you can write to this agency.”

　　“Will they respond?” I asked.

　　“I don’t know — I don’t know of anyone who’s ever written to them before.” Then he added, “By the way, this will probably keep happening each time you travel internationally.”

　　“What can I do to keep it from happening again?”

　　He smiled the empty smile we’d seen all day. “Absolutely nothing.”

　　After telling several friends about our ordeal, probably the most frequent advice l’ve heard in response is to change my name. Twenty years ago, my own graduate school writing professor advised me to write under a pen name so that publishers wouldn’t stick me in what he called “the ethnic ghetto” — a separate, secondary shelf in the bookstore. But a name is an integral part of anyone’s personal and professional identity — just like the town you’re bom in and the place where you’re raised.

　　Like my father, I’ll keep the name, but my airport experience has given me a whole new perspective on what diversity and tolerance are supposed to mean. I had no idea that being an American would ever be this hard.

　　90. The author was held at the airport because ______.

　　A. she and her husband returned from Jamaica. B. her name was similar to a terrorist’s.

　　C. she had been held in Montreal. D. she had spoken at a book event.

　　91. She was not allowed to call her friends because ______.

　　A. her identity hadn’t been confirmed yet.

　　B. she had been held for only one hour and a haiti

　　C. there were other families in the waiting room.

　　D. she couldn’t use her own cell phone.

　　92. We leam from the passage that the author would ______ to prevent similar experience from happening again.

　　A. write to the agency B. change her name

　　C. avoid traveling abroad D. do nothing

　　93. Her experiences indicate that there still exists ______ in the US.

　　A. hatred B. discrimination C. tolerance D. diversity

　　94. The author sounds ______ in the last paragraph.

　　A. impatient B. bitter C. worded D. ironic

　　这是一篇记叙文。文章讲述了一位生在美国长在美国的美国作家，因为名字问题，出国时在机场屡屡遭到办理移民手续的官员的歧视和刁难的故事，从而发出了在这样一个以民主和自由著称的国度里，做一个真正的美国人很难的感慨。

　　当那个坐在办理移民手续的柜台后面的人朝着后面房间里的人打手势的时候，我的心一沉。我生在美国长在美国，而这里是迈阿密，我生活的地方，但他们似乎仍没有做好接受我的准备。

　　“请在这里等候，Abujaber女士”，那个移民局的官员说道。我的丈夫有个非常美国化的姓。这时候，他一直陪在我身边。他早已习惯了这一切。前不久，当我飞到加拿大蒙特利尔为一个图书活动发言的时候，同样的事情也发生过。那次，他们把我滞留了45分钟之久。这次，我们是刚参加完在牙买加举行的一个文学盛会返回美国，而我惊异地发现我再一次被“送到了后面”。

　　(90) 柜台后的那个官员叫我说：“小姐，你的名字看起来和我们通缉名单上的某个人的名字很像。因此我们得和华盛顿方面核实一下。”

　　“那需要多久?”

　　“很难说…几分钟吧，”他说，“核查完后我们会叫你的。”

　　一小时过去了，华盛顿方面仍然没有对我做出任何决定。“现在办公不都实现电脑化了吗?”我问柜台：“难道你不能仔细看看我吗?”

　　又过了几分钟，他们确认了我的身份。

　　一个半小时以后，我掏出手机打电话给我那晚要见的朋友。(91) 一个官员冲了过来：“不准打电话!”他说。“说不定你是在给恐怖分子打电话，给他们提供信息。”

　　“我是个大学教授，”我尖叫道。

　　“你当然是。我们每天都用脚镣把你们这样的人带走。”

　　我放下了电话。

　　我和我的丈夫又累又饿。全家都被带到了等候室，那里挤满了兴奋的孩子和疲惫不堪的家长，甚至还有一名空服人员。

　　我想尖叫，想跳到椅子上大叫道：“我是美国公民，是个小说家;我很可能在教你的孩子英国文学。：”难道这一切都是我的罪过吗?

　　在被扣留了两个小时以后，一个官员走进我，说：“你可以走了。”没有任何解释或道歉的话。好一会，我俩谁都没动，我们仍处于深深的震惊中。然后我们跳了起来。

　　“对了，还有一件事。”他递给我一本破烂的复印本，本子上有个地址。“如果你们对今天的遭遇不满的话，你们可以给这个部门写信投诉。”

　　“他们会回信吗?”我问。

　　“我不知道——我不知道以前有没有人给他们写过信。”他又说道，“顺便说一句，以后你们每次出国时可能都会发生同样的事情。”

　　(92) “那么我们怎么做才能防止它再次发生呢?”

　　(92) 他不带任何感情地微微一笑，这种笑我们这一天来已经看到太多了。“绝对没有任何办法可以防止类似的事再发生。”

　　我把这次痛苦的遭遇讲给我的几个朋友听，所听到的最多的建议就是叫我改名字。(93) 20年前，我读研究生时教写作的教授曾建议我用笔名写作，这样出版商们就不会固执地把我列入他所谓的“种族隔离区”了——书店里一排单独放置的劣质的书架。但是名字是由一个人的个人属性和专业属性所构成的综合整体——就像你出生并且生长在那里的城市一样。

　　我会像我的父亲一样继续使用这个名字，但我在机场的这次经历使我对多样性和宽容意味着什么有了一个全新的认识。(94) 我从不知道做一个美国人会使这样的难。

　　▼ 试题分析

　　90. B) 细节题。(Para.3) “Miss, your name looks like the name of someone who’s on our wanted list. We’re going to have to check you out with Washington.”“小姐，你的名字看起来和我们通缉名单上的某个人的名字很像。因此我们得和华盛顿方面核实一下。”

　　91. A) 推断题。(Lines 2~3, Para.8) “For all we know you could be calling a terrorist cell and giving them information.”“不准打电话!”他说。“说不定你是在给恐怖分子打电话，给他们提供信息。”由此可以推断作者被禁止使用电话是因为移民局的官员还不能肯定他是否与恐怖分子有联系，换言之，还不能确定作者的身份。

　　92. D) 推断题。(Paras.18~19) “What can I do to keep it from happening again?” He smiled the empty smile we’d seen all day. “Absolutely nothing.” “那么我们怎么做才能防止它再次发生呢?”他不带任何感情地微微一笑，这种笑我们这一天来已经看到太多了。“绝对没有任何办法可以防止类似的事再发生。” 根据第18段和19段作者和那位官员的对话可知D是正确答案。

　　93. B) 推断题。(Lines 2~4, Para.20) Twenty years ago, my own graduate school writing professor advised me to write under a pen name so that publishers wouldn’t stick me in what he called “the ethnic ghetto” — a separate, secondary shelf in the bookstore. 20年前，我读研究生时教写作的教授曾建议我用笔名写作，这样出版商们就不会固执地把我列入他所谓的“种族隔离区”了——书店里一排单独放置的劣质的书架。作者这一次在机场的遭遇和20年前教授建议她使用笔名一事有异曲同工之妙，都说明了在美国，种族歧视仍然存在。

　　94. D) 细节题。(Lines 2~3, Para.21) 本文最后，作者感叹道：“I had no idea that being an American would ever be this hard.”——“我从不知道做一个美国人会使这样的难”。这是一种讽刺的说法，表现出作者对于这种现状的不满和无奈。

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