Practice English Reading Exercises for B2 – Literature, Writing & Publishing 8

Exercises:   123456

Reading 1

You are going to read an article about four authors describing how they base their fictional villains on real people they dislike, and the fear of being found out.

For questions 1-10, choose from the people/sections (A-D). The people/sections may be chosen more than once.

Which person/section

1   mentions having a specific tactic prepared in case someone challenges them?

2   admits to using this writing technique as a way to heal from adolescent trauma?

3   was forced to make a late alteration to their manuscript to avoid detection?

4   feels that imitating authentic flaws makes their antagonists much more convincing?

5   targets a former superior from their professional life?

6   experiences a persistent dread of facing formal legal proceedings?

7   alters their subject’s outward appearance while retaining their negative personality traits?

8   feels extremely anxious about an upcoming social gathering because of their book?

9   describes a feeling of remorse despite continuing their controversial writing habit?

10   based a character on someone who had previously broken their trust?

The Fiction of Enemies: When Authors Write Real People into Bad Guys

A Arthur

As a crime novelist, I often struggle to conjure up truly despicable antagonists entirely from scratch. Instead, I tend to draw inspiration from my own past, specifically a former manager who made my life an absolute misery. He was a deeply arrogant individual who loved to belittle his staff. To avoid any awkward confrontations, I go to great lengths to mask his identity. If the real man is tall and dark-haired, my villain will be short and blonde. However, I retain all those toxic psychological traits completely intact. It is incredibly satisfying to see him defeated on the page. Nevertheless, I still get butterflies in my stomach whenever my phone rings. A part of me is perpetually terrified that he will pick up a copy of my thriller at the airport, recognise his own cruel catchphrases, and realise the monstrous character is actually a reflection of him.

B Beatrice

Writing my debut fantasy novel was a chaotic process, and I made the foolish mistake of venting my personal frustrations through my writing. The chief antagonist is heavily based on an old university flatmate who completely shattered my trust by spreading malicious rumours about me. At the time, it felt incredibly empowering to cast her as the wicked sorceress. However, as the publication date drew closer, panic set in. I realised I had included far too many specific details about her life, including her bizarre obsession with vintage mirrors. I hastily contacted my editor to modify the character’s name just before the book went to print. Despite this frantic last-minute adjustment, I remain on edge. Every time I open my email inbox, I half expect to find an aggressive message from her, or worse, a letter from her lawyer threatening me with legal action for defamation.

C Colin

People often ask how I manage to create such chilling villains in my horror stories. The truth is, I don’t invent them; I just remember my school days. The primary antagonist in my latest bestseller is a direct replica of a boy who relentlessly bullied me when I was a teenager. Channeling that long-held resentment into my work has been wonderfully therapeutic; it’s a brilliant way to process old emotional wounds. Having the fictional version of my tormentor meet a sticky end felt like a long-overdue victory. That being said, my courage only goes so far. Next month, my old high school is hosting a twenty-year reunion, and I am absolutely dreading the prospect of attending. If he happens to show up, I know I won’t be able to look him in the eye. I’m convinced he’d figure out that the cowardly monster in my novel is entirely based on his terrible behaviour.

D Daphne

It might sound terribly disloyal, but I frequently model the villains in my historical dramas on members of my own family. My most recent antagonist is a carbon copy of my overly critical aunt, capturing her condescending tone and sharp gaze perfectly. I do occasionally suffer from pangs of guilt about exploiting my relatives for artistic gain. However, borrowing real human flaws is the only way I can guarantee my antagonists come across as truly believable and three-dimensional on the page. Because my novels are quite popular within our family circle, the risk of discovery is extremely high. To protect myself, I have already formulated a foolproof defence strategy. If my aunt ever points out the glaring similarities, I plan to act completely astonished, laugh it off, and insist that it is nothing more than a bizarre coincidence. So far, I haven’t had to use this excuse, but I keep it ready just in case.

Reading 2

You are going to read an article about four teenagers reflecting on forced reading assignments in school and how analyzing a book too much can destroy the enjoyment of the story.

For questions 1-10, choose from the people/sections (A-D). The people/sections may be chosen more than once.

Which person/section

1   regrets losing the ability to lose themselves completely in a fictional world?

2   admits that studying literature has improved their ability to recognise authorial techniques?

3   argues that analysing a book wouldn’t be a problem if the subject matter were more relevant?

4   feels that having to complete chapters according to a strict schedule ruins the fun?

5   is annoyed when their individual interpretation of a narrative is dismissed by teachers?

6   complains that scrutinising every single descriptive word destroys the overall emotional impact?

7   believes that the texts chosen by the school do not resonate with modern teenagers?

8   points out that the pressure of an impending writing assignment ruins the entire reading process?

9   confesses that school assignments have put them off reading for leisure outside of the classroom?

10   suggests that evaluating reading purely through examinations contradicts the true purpose of books?

Overthinking the Plot: Has School Ruined Reading?

A Leo

Before I hit secondary school, I was an avid reader who devoured fantasy novels. I used to get so wrapped up in the plot that hours would pass by unnoticed. Sadly, that sense of total immersion is a thing of the past. Nowadays, English classes require us to tear every paragraph apart, searching desperately for hidden metaphors and underlying symbolism. While I understand why we do it, dissecting a beautiful piece of prose word by word absolutely drains the life out of it. The emotional weight of a tragic scene vanishes when you’re forced to underline adjectives and highlight similes. I know some of my classmates complain about the ancient, unrelatable texts we have to read, but honestly, even if they gave us my absolute favourite modern thriller, over-analysing it would still ruin the magic. Consequently, I barely pick up a book for pleasure in my spare time anymore; the mere sight of a paperback reminds me of 

tedious homework.

B Maya

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t completely despise our literature lessons. If I look at it objectively, breaking down texts has genuinely equipped me with a solid understanding of how authors craft their narratives. I can now easily spot foreshadowing or a clever use of irony, which is a undeniably useful skill. What really drives me up the wall, however, is the rigid way we are expected to respond to a novel. Literature is supposed to be subjective, yet whenever I offer a unique perspective on a character’s motives, my teacher usually steers me back to the ‘accepted’ viewpoint. It’s incredibly frustrating to be told that your genuine, personal reaction to a storyline is somehow incorrect. We are often given tight deadlines to finish reading a chapter, but I could easily cope with the time pressure if we were just allowed to think for ourselves instead of simply memorising the teacher’s opinions for the final exam.

C Sam

For me, the main issue with school reading isn’t necessarily the complexity of the language or the themes; it’s the intense, structured environment we read in. Being told you must reach chapter twelve by Thursday morning completely transforms an enjoyable hobby into a stressful chore. When I’m rushing to meet a deadline, I’m not absorbing the story; I’m just skimming the pages to get it over with. Moreover, the constant looming threat of an end-of-term essay casts a dark shadow over the entire experience. You can’t just appreciate a brilliant plot twist when your brain is frantically trying to formulate a thesis statement for a homework assignment. Ultimately, judging a student’s reading ability solely through stressful, high-stakes testing goes against everything a good book stands for. Novels are meant to inspire and entertain, not serve as a terrifying hurdle to overcome for a passing grade. It simply takes all the joy out of the experience.

D Chloe

I strongly believe the core of the problem lies in the curriculum itself. Year after year, we are handed these dusty classics written centuries ago, featuring characters whose daily lives and struggles bear absolutely no resemblance to our own. It’s immensely difficult to engage with a story when the social dynamics and cultural references are completely alien to my generation. I hear a lot of people saying that the act of analysis itself destroys the enjoyment, but I’d beg to differ. If we were assigned contemporary fiction that actually tackled modern adolescent issues, picking apart the author’s message would be genuinely fascinating. Instead, we spend weeks evaluating archaic dialogue that puts me to sleep. Some of my peers claim that school has put them off reading entirely, but I still devour a good fantasy series at the weekend. I just wish our teachers would introduce a syllabus update; it would certainly work wonders for our motivation.

Exercises:   123456