Text 3I am not one who golfs. The only time I tried it I was confident that a dozen balls would be an adequate supply. This is the sport of retired people: how hard could it be? The confidence was misplaced, also, one by one, the balls, and I had to quit somewhere around the seventh hole. On the sixth, actually, I hit a car—there was absolutely no reason for a highway to be that close to a golf course—but that’s another story. The point is that the game did not yield up its mystery to me; I remain, in the golfing universe, a child of darkness. I do find that I am able to watch golf on television, however, where it is possible to experience a calmness that the game itself sadly lacks. Spread out on a couch and indifferent to the outcome (very important), you watch tiny white balls sail improbable distances over the biggest lawns in the world, interrupted occasionally by advertisements for expensive cars. One of the players is named Tiger. Another is named Love. If you have access to a bottle of Martinis (optional), the joy potential can be quite huge.

There is usually a price for pleasure so mindless. In the case of TV golf, it is listening to the commentators analyze the players’ swings. What looks to you like a single, continuous, and not difficult act is revealed, via slow motion and a sort of virtual-chalkboard graphics, to be a sequence of intricately measured adjustments of shoulder to hip, head to arm, elbow to wrist, and so on. Where you see fluidity, the experts see geometry; what to you is nature is machinery to them—parallel lines, extended planes, points of impact. They murder to examine. Yet, apparently, these minutes and individualized measurements make all the difference between being able reliably to land a golf ball in an area, three hundred yards away, the size of a bathmat and, say, randomly hitting a car, which, let’s face it, only a fool would drive right next to a golf course. There is a major disproportion, in other words, between the straightforwardness of the game and the fantastic precision required to play it, a disproportion mastered by a difficult but, to the ordinary observer, almost invisible technique.

Short stories are the same. A short story is not as restrictive as a sonnet, but, of all the literary forms, it is possibly the most single-minded. Its aim, as it was identified by the modern genre’s first theorist, Edgar Allan Poe, is to create “an effect”—by which Poe meant something almost physical, like a sensation or an extreme excitement.

第31题：The author quotes his own experience with golf to show that _____.

［A］ things are often not so simple and easy as they seem

［B］ his experience with golf has been a frustrating failure

［C］ that experience of his offered much for his later life

［D］ apparent truths are more often than not unreliable