Questões de Concursos FUVEST

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How to write, according to the bestselling novelist of all time

Everyone has a book inside them, or so the saying goes. In this day and age, those who want help coaxing the story out can receive instruction online from some of the world’s most popular authors. Lee Child and Harlan Coben, who have sold hundreds of millions of books between them, teach thriller writing; Jojo Moyes offers tips on romance yarns. And now Agatha Christie, the world’s bestselling writer of fiction, with more than 2 bn copies sold, is instructing viewers in the art of the whodunnit—even though she died in 1976.

Christie’s course is the result not of recently unearthed archival footage, but artificial intelligence. BBC Maestro, an online education platform, brought the idea to the Christie family, which still controls 36% of Agatha Christie Ltd (AMC Networks, an entertainment giant, owns the rest). They consented to bring the “Queen of Crime” back to life, to teach the mysterious flair of her style.

A team of almost 100—including Christie scholars as well as AI specialists—worked on the project. Vivien Keene, an actor, provided a stand-in for the author; Christie’s face was mapped on top. Crucially, Ms Keene’s eerily credible performance employs only Christie’s words: a tapestry of extracts from her own writings, notebooks and interviews.

In this way, the creator of Hercule Poirot and Miss Marple shares handy writing tips, such as the neatest ways to dispatch fictional victims. Firearms bring ballistic complications. Be wary of poisons, as each works in a unique way. Novice authors can “always rely on a dull blow to the head”.

Many of Christie’s writing rules concern playing fair. She practiced misdirection and laid “false clues” alongside true ones, but insisted that her plots do not cheat or hide key evidence: “I never deceive my readers.” In sections devoted to plot and setting, she explains how to plant key clues “in plain sight” and plan events with detailed “maps and diagrams”. She advises viewers to watch and listen to strangers on buses or in shops and to spice up motives for murder with a love triangle.

Some of the most engaging sections come from “An Autobiography”, published posthumously in 1977: Poirot’s origins among the Belgian refugees who reached Devon during the First World War, or fond memories of her charismatic, feckless brother Monty, who had “broken the laws of a lot of countries” and provided the inspiration for many of Christie’s “wayward young male figures”.

By relying on Christie’s own words, BBC Maestro hopes to avoid charges of creepy pedagogical deepfakery. At the same time, it is that focus on quotation which limits the course’s value as a creative-writing toolbox. The woman born Agatha Miller in 1890 speaks from her own time and place. She tells wannabe writers to use snowstorms to isolate murder scenes (as they bring down telephone wires) and cites the clue-generating value of railway timetables, ink stains and cut-up newspapers. These charming details are irrelevant to modern scribblers.

Yet anachronism is not the course’s biggest flaw: it is that it lacks vitality. Christie enjoyed a richer life than learners will glean from this prim phantom: she was a wartime nurse (hence her deep knowledge of toxins), thwarted opera singer, keen surfer and archaeological expert who joined her second husband on digs in Iraq. Furthermore, her juiciest mysteries smash crime-writing rules. The narrator does it; the detective does it; all the suspects do it. Sometimes there’s no detective: in “The Hollow” (1946) Christie regretted that Poirot appeared at all. With its working-class antihero and gothic darkness, “Endless Night” (1967) shatters every Christie cliché. This high-tech, retrofitted version of the author feels smaller and flatter than the ingenious original.

The Economist, May, 8th, 2025

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“Na linguagem filosófica, o termo fundamento designa o que serve de base ao ser, ao conhecer, ou ao decidir. Fundamento é a causa ou razão de algo (ratioessendi, ratio cognoscendi, ratio decidendi). Justamente em se tratando da ratio decidendi, em matéria ética, é preciso saber distinguir entre a razão ou razões pelas quais uma norma de comportamento social é de fato obedecida – o costume, o temor da sanção, o desejo de agradar aos poderosos – e a razão última pela qual ela deve ser obedecida.

No sistema filosófico kantiano, uma razão justificativa para a lei moral é semelhante à causalidade no campo da natureza. E esse fundamento último da moralidade, segundo Kant, só pode ser a liberdade.

Ora, em matéria ética, o fundamento é um critério ou modelo de vida. Na língua grega, de onde nos veio o vocábulo, critério é um substantivo ligado ao verbo krinô, empregado em três acepções principais: 1ª) julgar, decidir, condenar; 2ª) estimar, crer; e 3ª) separar, escolher, comparar. Em latim, usava-se o verbo cerno, de onde proveio o nosso discernir. Ressalte-se, desde logo, que não pode servir de critério para o juízo do bem e do mal a opinião deste ou daquele indivíduo. Em matéria ética, o critério ou modelo devida deve valer, no essencial, para todos os homens e todas as civilizações. Frise-se: no essencial, pois há valores secundários que variam enormemente, entre as diferentes culturas e civilizações. É preciso não confundir, por isso, desigualdades com diferenças: as primeiras representam a negação da dignidade intrínseca de todos os seres humanos, sem exceção alguma, ao passo que as diferenças fundadas na realidade biológica ou na capacidade de criação cultural constituem valores a serem sempre respeitados, sob pena, ainda aí, de negação da dignidade humana”.

Fabio Konder Comparato. Ética, p. 437-439 (adaptado)

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How to write, according to the bestselling novelist of all time

Everyone has a book inside them, or so the saying goes. In this day and age, those who want help coaxing the story out can receive instruction online from some of the world’s most popular authors. Lee Child and Harlan Coben, who have sold hundreds of millions of books between them, teach thriller writing; Jojo Moyes offers tips on romance yarns. And now Agatha Christie, the world’s bestselling writer of fiction, with more than 2 bn copies sold, is instructing viewers in the art of the whodunnit—even though she died in 1976.

Christie’s course is the result not of recently unearthed archival footage, but artificial intelligence. BBC Maestro, an online education platform, brought the idea to the Christie family, which still controls 36% of Agatha Christie Ltd (AMC Networks, an entertainment giant, owns the rest). They consented to bring the “Queen of Crime” back to life, to teach the mysterious flair of her style.

A team of almost 100—including Christie scholars as well as AI specialists—worked on the project. Vivien Keene, an actor, provided a stand-in for the author; Christie’s face was mapped on top. Crucially, Ms Keene’s eerily credible performance employs only Christie’s words: a tapestry of extracts from her own writings, notebooks and interviews.

In this way, the creator of Hercule Poirot and Miss Marple shares handy writing tips, such as the neatest ways to dispatch fictional victims. Firearms bring ballistic complications. Be wary of poisons, as each works in a unique way. Novice authors can “always rely on a dull blow to the head”.

Many of Christie’s writing rules concern playing fair. She practiced misdirection and laid “false clues” alongside true ones, but insisted that her plots do not cheat or hide key evidence: “I never deceive my readers.” In sections devoted to plot and setting, she explains how to plant key clues “in plain sight” and plan events with detailed “maps and diagrams”. She advises viewers to watch and listen to strangers on buses or in shops and to spice up motives for murder with a love triangle.

Some of the most engaging sections come from “An Autobiography”, published posthumously in 1977: Poirot’s origins among the Belgian refugees who reached Devon during the First World War, or fond memories of her charismatic, feckless brother Monty, who had “broken the laws of a lot of countries” and provided the inspiration for many of Christie’s “wayward young male figures”.

By relying on Christie’s own words, BBC Maestro hopes to avoid charges of creepy pedagogical deepfakery. At the same time, it is that focus on quotation which limits the course’s value as a creative-writing toolbox. The woman born Agatha Miller in 1890 speaks from her own time and place. She tells wannabe writers to use snowstorms to isolate murder scenes (as they bring down telephone wires) and cites the clue-generating value of railway timetables, ink stains and cut-up newspapers. These charming details are irrelevant to modern scribblers.

Yet anachronism is not the course’s biggest flaw: it is that it lacks vitality. Christie enjoyed a richer life than learners will glean from this prim phantom: she was a wartime nurse (hence her deep knowledge of toxins), thwarted opera singer, keen surfer and archaeological expert who joined her second husband on digs in Iraq. Furthermore, her juiciest mysteries smash crime-writing rules. The narrator does it; the detective does it; all the suspects do it. Sometimes there’s no detective: in “The Hollow” (1946) Christie regretted that Poirot appeared at all. With its working-class antihero and gothic darkness, “Endless Night” (1967) shatters every Christie cliché. This high-tech, retrofitted version of the author feels smaller and flatter than the ingenious original.

The Economist, May, 8th, 2025

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Leveraging Student Interests to Teach Critical Analysis

Critical analysis often feels burdensome to students—an exercise in sorting hazy ideas with no clear payoff. Yet, when learners glimpse something of value—a “gem” amid the clutter—the process becomes not just manageable but invigorating. By tapping into topics they already care about, we can model the habits of mind involved in deep thinking before guiding students into unfamiliar territory. In this way, what begins as an exploration of personal passion becomes a transferable skill for any subject.

First, invite students to choose a subject that genuinely interests them—whether it’s dissecting the social commentary in a favorite song or debating the ethics of a beloved athlete’s off-field behavior. Guide them through selecting an analytical angle, unpacking layers of meaning, and celebrating discoveries. As they experience critical analysis as an energizing process rather than a dry requirement, they build confidence in their own intellectual curiosity and learn to seek connections between ideas.

Next, when faced with assignments that initially seem remote—say, an art critique or a historical essay—provide a lens that resonates with each student’s strengths. A budding fiction writer, for example, can approach a painting as she would a story: considering character, narrative arc, and emotional impact. By framing unfamiliar topics through familiar mindsets, you grant students an entry point that makes critical analysis feel both relevant and compelling.

Once students have internalized the underlying process, encourage them to take the reins. Rather than asking, “What does this mean?” shift to, “What does this mean to me?” Students might analyze ecological themes in a novel from their passion for climate justice, or reinterpret a political speech through the lens of family heritage. These personal connections transform assignments from obligatory tasks into opportunities for authentic inquiry.

Ultimately, teaching critical analysis in this way moves learners from guided practice to independent exploration. By beginning with their interests, scaffolding new angles, and then inviting student-driven investigations, educators can help every learner—from the avid gamer to the reluctant essay-writer—carry these skills into diverse subjects. In doing so, critical analysis becomes not a chore but a doorway to richer understanding.

Edutopia, May, 1st, 2025