1 . One of the roles of the Nobel Prize for literature is to shine a light on someone who has been less visible than they deserve. That role was _______ this year in the announcement of Abdulrazak Gurnah as winner.

Unlike previous popular recipients living in Britain, he is not a _______. He could, as he said after the announcement, have reached more readers, but his publications _______ to grant him that. His publisher felt sorry for the fact that he “is one of the greatest living African writers; yet no one has ever _______ him,” but with this he did not agree: “I didn’t think I was ignored.”

There is a(n) _______ , here, that has to do with who is doing the looking, and what counts as officially being noticed. There is also a point of _______: calling Gurnah an African writer. In fact, while that seems to broaden horizons, it narrows and distances what he is doing. Gurnah was born in Zanzibar, and left for Britain when he was 18, _______ regional conflicts for what he hoped would be calmer waters, which turned out to be stronger dark current. He has lived in Britain ever since.

He began and stuck to writing to _______, to himself, of the shock -- of racism, rejection, poverty and loneliness. His ten novels return to it _______, which begins in 1996’s Admiring Silence. His work exists because of Britain as well as Zanzibar; it may ________ both or wholly neither. It arrives out of a(n) ________ of English literature (Gurnah is professor of literature at the University of Kent), and his first language, the rhythms and stories of Islam.

________, many of the UK's thirteen Nobel-winning writers were born elsewhere as by 2019, 14% of the UK’s population were born abroad. People might also be astonished at how many of those countries were once part of the British empire. Gurnah has spoken of how much of the world is still processing the wounds that colonialism ________, especially the experience of “losing your place in the world”-- where place is not just ________, but also belonging, status and culture.

In this sense, Gurnah’s work, which ________ those who might not have been remembered in history--shopkeeper, homemakers, students and refugees, could not be more British. But, more importantly, it could not be more universal.

3 . What does it mean to leave something better than you found it? For Breon Dennis Jr. , it ______lots of hard work, flexibility, unity, and passion.

Breon is from Louisiana, and came to Dallas Baptist University in the late 2000s to ______his undergraduate degree. While at DBU, Breon began ______at the Rangers Baseball Club. Following this, he______his Master’s degree from DBU. Currently, Breon worked as the Vice President of the Roughriders Foundation. During the 6 seasons with the RoughRiders, he has already seen his ______in the community.

As the VP of the RoughRiders Foundation, his ultimate ______is to mentor (指导) others and see others mentored, both professionally and ______. As a leader, through the ______he puts on, such as food drives and environmental outreach (环保宣传), Breon ______to help others reach their full potential. He allows them to feel comfortable in their own skin. He also ______them to grow in leadership themselves.

A key part to Breon’s philosophy in helping others to ______is to embrace (接受) their failures. He has learned to ______his failures and grow from them, which he tries to ______along to others. Through his time at Rangers Basebal Club, and now the RoughRiders, Breon has made foundational ______of servant leadership and intentionality in the community. That has guided him to lead others to be the ______they can be—to embrace their failures, and use the growth they experience to help others do the same.

5 . How would you feel if you were invited to the moon? If you found a gold coin, would you save it, give it to charity or use it for a holiday? Personality quizzes of this kind, known as “psychometrics”, have bothered many job seekers. Now, it is being applied to the oldest problem in finance: will a borrower repay?

In rich countries, lenders use credit scores to weigh risk. But just 7% of Africans and 13% of South Asians are covered by credit bureaus (征信机构). Bailey Klinger of the Entrepreneurial Finance Lab (EFL), which explores new kinds of credit data, argues that psychometrics could include many more people in the financial system. Everyone has a personality, after all.

Judging character is not new. Psychometrics attempts to make it a science. The model developed by EFL has undergone many tests and adapted to different cultures. Its collected data reflect something unnoticed. For instance, young optimists are risky, but old ones are a safe bet.

Clever design cuts cheating. There are no obvious right answers; responses are cross-checked for consistency. The model monitors mouse movements for signs of indecision or distraction. When borrowers lie to get a loan, they often do so in predictable ways. In an EFL test, people are shown pictures of five drinks and asked which one they would be. Choosing water over something with small bubbles may be a sign of cheating.

This sounds fanciful, but there is evidence that it works. In one Indonesian bank, combining psychometrics with existing customer data cut default (违约) rates for small businesses by 45%. A study by the World Bank found that EFL’s model increased lending to those without a credit history.

The technique needs further development. At present, turning to credit bureaus is still the best way to tell if somebody will repay a loan. But bureaus improve more slowly than technology. Lenders will find ever more ways to look into their customers’ souls.

8 . When it came to concealing his troubles, Tommy Wilhelm was not less capable than the next fellow. So at least he thought, and there was a certain amount of evidence to back him up. He had once been an actor—no, not quite, an extra—and he knew what acting should be. Also, he was smoking a cigar, and when a man is smoking a cigar, wearing a hat, he has an advantage: it is harder to find out how he feels. He came from the twenty-third floor down to the lobby on the mezzanine to collect his mail before breakfast, and he believed — he hoped — that he looked passably well: doing all right. It was a matter of sheer hope, because there was not much that he could add to his present effort. On the fourteenth floor he looked for his father to enter the elevator; they often met at this hour, on the way to breakfast. If he worried about his appearance it was mainly for his old father's sake. But there was no stop on the fourteenth, and the elevator sank and sank. Then the smooth door opened and the great dark-red uneven carpet that covered the lobby billowed toward Wilhelm's feet. In the foreground the lobby was dark, sleepy. French drapes like sails kept out the sun, but three high, narrow windows were open, and in the blue air Wilhelm saw a pigeon about to light on the great chain that supported the marquee of the movie house directly underneath the lobby. For one moment he heard the wings beating strongly.

Most of the guests at the Hotel Gloriana were past the age of retirement. Along Broadway in the Seventies, Eighties, and Nineties, a great part of New York's vast population of old men and women lives. Unless the weather is too cold or wet they fill the benches about the tiny railed parks and along the subway gratings from Verdi Square to Columbia University, they crowd the shops and cafeterias, the dime stores, the tearooms, the bakeries, the beauty parlors, the reading rooms and club rooms. Among these old people at the Gloriana, Wilhelm felt out of place. He was comparatively young, in his middle forties, large and blond, with big shoulders; his back was heavy and strong, if already a little stooped or thickened. After breakfast the old guests sat down on the green leather armchairs and sofas in the lobby and began to gossip and look into the papers: they had nothing to do but wait out the day. But Wilhelm was used to an active life and liked to go out energetically in the morning. And for several months, because he had no position, he had kept up his morale by rising early: he was shaved and in the lobby by eight o'clock. He bought the paper and some cigars and drank a Coca-Cola or two before he went in to breakfast with his father. After breakfast—out, out, out to attend to business. The getting out had in itself become the chief business. But he had realized that he could not keep this up much longer, and today he was afraid. He was aware that his routine was about to break up and he sensed that a huge trouble long presaged(预感)but till now formless was due. Before evening, he'd know.

Nevertheless he followed his daily course and crossed the lobby.

Rubin, the man at the newsstand, had poor eyes. They may not have been actually weak but they were poor in expression, with lacy lids that furled down at the corners. He dressed well. It didn't seem necessary—he was behind the counter most of the time—but he dressed very well. He had on a rich brown suit; the cuffs embarrassed the hairs on his small hands. He wore a Countess Mara painted necktie. As Wilhelm approached, Rubin did not see him; he was looking out dreamily at the Hotel Ansonia, which was visible from his corner, several blocks away. The Ansonia, the neighborhood's great landmark, was built by Stanford White. It looks like a baroque palace from Prague or Munich enlarged a hundred times, with towers, domes, huge swells and bubbles of metal gone green from exposure, iron fretwork and festoons. Black television antennae are densely planted on its round summits. Under the changes of weather it may look like marble or like sea water, black as slate in the fog, white as tufa in sunlight. This morning it looked like the image of itself reflected in deep water, white and cumulous above, with cavernous distortions underneath. Together, the two men gazed at it.

Then Rubin said, “Your dad is in to breakfast already, the old gentleman.”

“Oh, yes？Ahead of me today？”

“That's a real knocked-out shirt you got on,” said Rubin.“Where’s it from, Saks？”

“No, it’s a Jack Fagman—Chicago.”

Even when his spirits were low, Wilhelm could still wrinkle his forehead in a pleasing way. Some of the slow, silent movements of his face were very attractive. He went back a step, as if to stand away from himself and get a better look at his shirt. His glance was comic, a comment upon his untidiness. He liked to wear good clothes, but once he had put it on each article appeared to go its own way. Wilhelm, laughing, panted a little; his teeth were small; his cheeks when he laughed and puffed grew round, and he looked much younger than his years. In the old days when he was a college freshman and wore a beanie(无檐小帽)on his large blonde head his father used to say that, big as he was, he could charm a bird out of a tree. Wilhelm had great charm still.

“I like this dove-gray color,” he said in his sociable, good-natured way. “It isn’t washable. You have to send it to the cleaner. It never smells as good as washed. But it’s a nice shirt. It cost sixteen, eighteen bucks.”

9 . Mike Mushaw joined the national bone marrow registry (骨髓登记) three years ago by chance. Six months later, he got a call. The 21-year-old football player's bone marrow matched a patient in Virginia. Mushaw gave a second thought to the donation, because apart from some risks, he never knew whether his donation worked.

“Finally I said yes,” Mushaw told the journalist. “Once they took my blood, I thought, ‘All right, this is real. This is going to happen.’”

Mushaw didn't know it at the time, but his donation would go to a five-month-old girl named Eleanor who was sick with a rare disease diagnosed when she was only three months old. Days and weeks passing, her condition had become more dire.

“Eleanor was going to die without a bone marrow transplant,” her mother, Jessica, said. “The choices were to either get a transplant or die early. Luckily, Mushaw’s bone cured her.”

Mushaw didn't know any of this until months after his donation. About six months after the procedure, Eleanor's parents sent him an e-mail to thank him for his selfless love.

Their surprising connection was beginning. Mushaw kept checking on her progress. Eleanor focused her attention on him, too, by watching his football games on TV. In August, Mushaw invited her family to drive from Virginia to Connecticut to meet at one of his games. They had a good time together.

In January, Mushaw reunited with Eleanor, this time in Virginia, to celebrate her birthday. It will likely be first of many celebrations together. “As a parent, it feels really great to watch someone love your kid as much as you do,” Jessica says. “We were two complete strangers, and now we've become such a big part of each other's lives.”