1 . Of all the journalism specialties, science writing may well be the most challenging. Science writers cover fields undergoing some of the most rapid advances in history, from stunning advances in genetics and biotechnology to exotic discoveries in astrophysics. A science writer’s week may include coverage of new discoveries about viruses, the brain, evolution, artificial intelligence, planets around other suns, and global climate change and its environmental impact, to name only a few topics.

Writing anything that’s any good is hard work, but science writers labor tinder a particular, and rather peculiar, set of constraints. Science is new — only about 400 years old, as a going concern — and prodigious, having transformed our conception of the universe and of our place in it. But precisely because its impact has been so rapid and so monumental, science has not yet been absorbed into our common consciousness. Readers come to the printed page already knowing something about crime and punishment, love and loss, triumph and tragedy — but not, necessarily, about the roles played by theory and observation in identifying a virus or tracing the curvature of intergalactic space. Hence science writers have to keep explaining things, from the significance of scientific facts to the methods by which they are adduced, while simultaneously holding the readers’ attention and moving the story along. It’s as if business reporters had to constantly explain what is meant by “turning a profit”, or sportswriters by “scoring a touchdown”.

Unsurprisingly, we science writers are often misunderstood. People tend to assume that we write computer software manuals or those buckram-bound engineering textbooks assigned to students in technical studies. Fellow authors dismiss us as translators. Editors may think us narrow. A quarter-century ago, when I was struggling to move away from writing about politics and rock music in order to concentrate on astronomy, the editor of a major magazine pressed me to do an article, called “The Bionic Man”, on artificial body parts. When I declined, he became impatient.

“Well, what do you want to write about?” he asked, throwing up his hands, like a motorist cut off in traffic.

“Astronomy,” I replied.

“You’ve already written about astronomy!”

“Yes, but I like it. It was my original interest in life.”

“Aren’t you afraid of becoming some sort of Johnny One Note?”

“Well, not really. You know, what’s out there is something like ninety-nine, then a decimal point, then twenty-eight more nines per cent of everything. Covering nearly everything doesn’t seem all that limiting. And it leads to lots of other things.”

I’ve been on the wrong side of arguments with editors more often than it is comfortable to recall, but on this occasion I turned out to have been right. Astronomy did lead to everything else. It led me into other sciences of course — among them physics, chemistry, and biology — and also, by many winding paths, to poetry, literature, history, philosophy, art, music, and into conversation with some of the smartest and most creative people in the world.

1. According to the writer, what is the main difficulty facing science writers?

A．Finding new science topics.

B．Meeting the reader’s expectations of science.

C．Overcoming the reader's unfamiliarity with science.

D．Keeping up with the rapid developments in science.

2. Why did the writer refuse to write about The Bionic Man?

A．He had no expertise in the topic.

B．He was not passionate about the topic.

C．He did not realize the potential of the topic.

D．He did not want to write about the same topic again.

3. Which of the following statements about the writer is NOT true?

A．He finds it difficult to get recognition from others as a science writer.

B．He feels quite comfortable with the previous arguments he had with editors.

C．A keen interest in astronomy contributes to his exploration of other disciplines.

D．Astronomy helps him form a connection with some great minds in the world.

4. Which word best describes the tone of the last paragraph?

A．indifference

B．amusement

C．frustration

D．satisfaction

2 . There's no feeling quite like walking alongside the river.

It's the last light in the valley, and the sound of rushing water drowned out all others. I walk the river's edge with my dog, Mosi, whose inability to hear over the waterfall makes him nervous. Despite his impressive size, he runs sheepishly at my feet. At first glance, we walk to fish, but actually we move at the urging of naturalists long since passed—of John Burroughs and of Loren Eiseley—and of my parents, Norman and Paula, who are still alive today but live far from this Kenya valley. Walk in the woods, their voices advise, along the banks of a river where, in the blue end of a day, you may find the rhythms that fascinate you. There, among the fish and the flowers and the forces that bind them, you might make peace with your worried mind.

I began to venture into the highlands of central Kenya in 2013 with the hope that its rivers might throw their _________ power upon me, smoothing my edges as they have, over time, polished the stones in their path. I've never been free of emotional stress, but my years of working as a photojournalist in some of Africa's most conflict-ridden environment left additional barbs in me. With time it became hard to distinguish between the conflicts that existed inside me and the ones that I witnessed through the lens. Gradually they became intertwined, and I felt an expanding sense of tension and discomfort inside me.

Fly-fishing seemed a cure of the pain of photographing people's suffering, as I'd done so often in recent years. I hadn't cast a fishing line since the age of 10 or so, when I used bait to fish the Atlantic waters that surrounded the places I lived at a child, first along the coast of New Jersey and later in Massachusetts. My mother's friend at that time taught me the basics. He was a large, athletic man who'd been in the U. S. Army Special Forces, an experience that left him with his own scars. At dusk by the river, his hand resting comfortably on the rod, he seemed at ease.

Between assignments I began to drive around. The slow-flowing river drifts through protected forests, where a network of paths, used by humans, elephants and lions, cuts through thick vegetation. I came to realize that the river had given me more than I'd asked—I regained the peace inside me, and it seemed that I'd gone back to my childhood when sand sharks and puffer fish made my heart beat with curiosity.

1. Which of the following statements is true according to the first two paragraphs?

A．The author came to the valley to fish as well as to make peace with his worried mind.

B．The deafening sound of the waterfall made the author and his dog quite scared.

C．The author's parents advised him to discover nature in the depths of the valley.

D．The valley environment is said to have a healing power upon one's heart.

2. Which of the following is the best word to fill in the blank in the 2^nd paragraph?

A．rushing.

B．shaking.

C．transforming.

D．encouraging.

3. Which of the following statements is true about the author?

A．His occupation as a cameraman added to his inner frustration.

B．He got to make friends with his mother's friend because of fly-fishing.

C．In his spare time, he often walked through the vegetation along the paths.

D．Finally he was cured by his childhood experience with sand sharks and puffer fish.

4. Which of the following best serves as the title for the passage?

A．My Job in Photography Led Me to a Valley.	B．A River Heals the Scar Left by a Camera.
C．The Call of Naturalists Pushed Me to Explore.	D．The Fishing Rod Links Nature With My Heart.