Answer:
How hotly the sun shone overhead!
Answer:
<u>Jax</u> will pay for (his) lunch with cash today.
Explanation:
"His" is not a pronoun. It is a possessive adjective: my, your, his, her, its, our, your, their. It is called so because it precedes a noun and modifies it. Therefore, if you say "his" lunch, it is not about any lunch; it is rather a specific one, belonging to a particular person.
The antecedent of "his" is "Jax", since "his lunch" refers to "Jax's lunch", that is, Jax is the person whose lunch we are talking about.
It suggests the narrator is traveled without thinking of the time.
This one makes the most sense because he says "at length, I found myself" some traveled for a while. "As the shades of the evening drew on" supports that he was traveling without hinting of the time because night draws on unexpectedly.
Literature and the Holocaust have a complicated relationship. This isn't to say, of course, that the pairing isn't a fruitful one—the Holocaust has influenced, if not defined, nearly every Jewish writer since, from Saul Bellow to Jonathan Safran Foer, and many non-Jews besides, like W.G. Sebald and Jorge Semprun. Still, literature qua art—innately concerned with representation and appropriation—seemingly stands opposed to the immutability of the Holocaust and our oversized obligations to its memory. Good literature makes artistic demands, flexes and contorts narratives, resists limpid morality, compromises reality's details. Regarding the Holocaust, this seems unconscionable, even blasphemous. The horrors of Auschwitz and Buchenwald need no artistic amplification.
