Questions 1–5.

Questions 6–10. Select the TWO correct answer choices.

Questions 11–15 are based on the passage below.

Literary critics have long debated whether an author's stated intentions should govern the interpretation of a text, a question given its sharpest formulation in a mid-twentieth-century essay that labeled reliance on authorial intention "the intentional fallacy." Proponents of this view argued that a poem or novel, once published, becomes a public object whose meaning is available for readers to discover through close attention to the text itself, independent of what the author may have privately intended or later claimed to have meant. Critics of this position countered that entirely disregarding intention risks license for arbitrary interpretation, since a text considered wholly apart from its historical and biographical context can be made to mean almost anything a sufficiently inventive reader wishes. A middle position, associated with reader-response theory, sidesteps the dispute somewhat by relocating meaning not in the author's intention nor in the text alone, but in the interaction between text and reader, acknowledging that different readers, shaped by different experiences, may reasonably arrive at different, equally defensible readings of the same passage. This third position has itself drawn criticism for potentially collapsing into the same problem of interpretive license it was meant to avoid, since if every reading is equally valid, the concept of a "wrong" interpretation becomes difficult to sustain.

Questions 16–20 are based on the passage below.

The unreliable narrator, a device by which a story is told by a voice whose account the reader has reason to distrust, has become so common in contemporary fiction that its once-startling effect risks becoming a predictable convention in its own right. Early influential uses of the device relied on readers gradually noticing inconsistencies the narrator seemed unaware of, producing a slow, unsettling recognition that events were not as the narrator described them. As the technique proliferated, however, many novels began signaling unreliability from the outset — through a narrator's evident instability, self-contradiction, or overt admission of dishonesty — trading the original effect of gradual discovery for an upfront acknowledgment that primes readers to expect deception from the first page. Some critics argue this shift represents a loss: when unreliability is announced rather than discovered, the reader's active interpretive labor, once essential to the device's power, becomes largely unnecessary. Others counter that announced unreliability opens new creative possibilities unavailable to the earlier, more covert approach, allowing authors to explore not whether a narrator can be trusted but the more interesting question of why they lie and what that dishonesty reveals about their psychology.