4.3 - Paper 2 Q4: Commenting on methods in a sustained comparison

Keep perspectives central

Paper 2 Question 4 is a 16-mark AO3 task. Its centre is the relationship between the writers' feelings, ideas or perspectives; methods matter because they show how each perspective is conveyed. You need the whole of both sources, not two isolated quotations or a paragraph about only one writer.

The 2026 mark scheme makes that both-source requirement concrete: a Level 1-quality response dealing with only one text is capped at 2 marks, and a Level 2-quality one-text response at 6; both texts are needed for Level 3 or above. This is not a quotation quota. It is a warning that even good work on one writer cannot become a sustained comparison by itself.

A useful chain of thought is flexible, not a paragraph formula:

1. Name one like-for-like comparison: what do both writers think or feel about the same aspect of the topic?
2. Select support from each source.
3. Explain how a choice in each source conveys that view. A choice might involve wording, tone, form, audience, viewpoint or the way the account develops.
4. Link the writers again, qualifying the comparison if needed.

You do not need to prove that the writers use the same method, or directly compare one technique with another. “Both use imagery” is a method match; “both respect the sea, but one turns danger into a triumph while the other treats it as a reason for restraint” is a comparison of perspectives.

Read the whole pair

The pair below is linked by small-boat travel. Source A is literary non-fiction from the nineteenth century; Source B is a twenty-first-century commentary. Read for the writers' positions before marking methods.

Source A

Joshua Slocum, Voyage of the Liberdade (1890), Chapter XIV. Slocum recounts taking his family northwards from Brazil in the small canoe-like sailing craft he had built.

Along about half way from Cape St. Roque to the Amazon, the wind which had been blowing hard for two days, from E.S.E., and raising lively waves all about, increased to a gale that knocked up seas, washing over the little craft more than ever. The thing was becoming monotonous and tiresome; for a change, therefore, I ran in toward the land, so as to avoid the ugly cross sea farther out in the current. This course was a mistaken one; we had not sailed far on it when a sudden rise of the canoe, followed by an unusually long run down on the slope of a roller, told us of a danger that we hardly dared to think of. Then a mighty comber broke, but, as Providence willed, broke short of the canoe, which under shortened sail was then scudding very fast.

We were on a shoal, and the sea was breaking from the bottom! The second great roller came on, towering up, up, up, until nothing longer could support the mountain of water, and it seemed only to pause before its fall to take aim and surely gather us up in its sweeping fury.

I put the helm a-lee; there was nothing else to do but this, and say prayers. The helm hard down brought the canoe round, bows to the danger, while in breathless anxiety we prepared to meet the result as best we could. Before we could say “Save us, or we perish,” the sea broke over with terrific force and passed on, leaving us trembling in His hand, more palpably helpless than ever before. Other great waves came madly on, leaping toward destruction; how they bellowed over the shoal! I could smell the slimy bottom of the sea when they broke! I could taste the salty sand!

In this perilous situation, buried sometimes in the foaming breakers, and at times tossed like a reed on the crest of the waves, we struggled with might and main at the helm and the sheets, easing her up or forcing her ahead with care, gaining little by little toward deep water, till at last she came out of the danger, shook her feathers like a sea-bird, and rode on waves less perilous. Then we had time and courage to look back, but not till then.

And what a sight we beheld! The horizon was illumined with phosphorescent light from the breakers just passed through. The rainstorm which had obscured the coast was so cleared away now that we could see the whole field of danger behind us. One spot in particular, the place where the breakers dashed over a rock which appeared awash, in the glare flashed up a shaft of light that reached to the heavens.

This was the greatest danger we had yet encountered. The elasticity of our canoe, not its bulk, saved it from destruction. Her light, springy timbers and buoyant bamboo guards brought her upright again and again through the fierce breakers. We were astonished at the feats of wonder of our brave little craft.

Glossary: a shoal is a shallow area; a comber is a large breaking wave; putting the helm a-lee turns a sailing boat towards the wind.

Source B

“Adventure needs an exit plan” – a twenty-first-century commentary based on RNLI boating-safety guidance.

Stories about small boats often turn danger into proof of courage. Waves become monsters, survival becomes victory, and the safest journey can sound like the dullest one. The story may be compelling, but it can hide a less dramatic truth: preparation matters more than bravado.

The RNLI recommends practical precautions before and during a boating trip. Check the weather and tides. Wear an appropriate lifejacket. Carry a reliable way to call for help. Make sure somebody ashore knows where you are going and when you expect to return. Those plain verbs — check, wear, carry, tell — do not make an exciting legend. They do make responsibility visible.

The sea is not an enemy to defeat. It is a changing environment that does not notice your confidence. A cancelled trip may feel like failure when the boat is ready and the horizon is bright, yet turning back can be evidence of judgement rather than fear. Adventure is not reduced by precautions; sensible precautions are what make it possible to come home and tell the story.

The gist is already a comparison: Slocum remembers peril as a frightening test that reveals the craft's courage and wonder, whereas the modern writer respects the sea by resisting heroic bravado and valuing cautious judgement.

Model the selection decision

Suppose the focus is the writers' perspectives on danger at sea. Three possible starting decisions are:

The strongest evidence is not necessarily the longest. From Source A, “tossed like a reed” and then “shook her feathers like a sea-bird” capture a movement from helplessness to recovery. From Source B, “does not notice your confidence” and the contrast between “failure” and “judgement” reveal its warning against bravado. A detail such as the compass direction is accurate but less useful for this focus.

One expert paragraph could read:

Both writers respect the sea's power, but Slocum turns surviving it into a thrilling victory whereas the modern writer treats that power as a reason for restraint. Slocum first makes the voyagers seem helpless when the canoe is “tossed like a reed”, a simile which reduces people and craft to something fragile in the waves. Yet the account then changes: the canoe “shook her feathers like a sea-bird” and the crew are “astonished” by their “brave little craft”. This movement from frightening action to admiring reflection conveys pride in having endured the danger. By contrast, the modern writer warns that the sea “does not notice your confidence”. Giving the sea this cold indifference strips away the heroic idea that courage can conquer it. The later contrast between turning back as “failure” and as “judgement” recasts restraint as strength. The writers therefore share awe for the sea, but Slocum's retrospective story makes peril part of an adventure, while Source B values the decisions that prevent peril from becoming the story.