Word: drabs
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...nobody. That's why you read a book like this. There might be your requisite trendoids, your sprinkle of window dresser aspirants, your misguided cultural studies concentrator who wants to derive a thesis on window displays, but the real readers-and lovers-of this book will be your drab, gray non-aesthete nobodies of life. For them, Doonan, with the aid of 200 full color illustrations and a glossary of exotic terms like "whomp" and "nelly," whips up in print the sort of kinky, macabre fairealism which has made his name in Madison Avenue windows. It is a big-money...
Little Voice (Jane Horrocks), a withdrawn young woman who is constantly hectored by her blowsy mom (Brenda Blethyn) and courted by a drab-as-drywall repairman (Ewan McGregor), lives only for the pop standards her dear dead dad loved. Turns out she has an eerie gift for mimicking Judy Garland, Marilyn Monroe and other ghosts of chanteuses past. So a local talent scout (Michael Caine) thrusts the kid onstage for her, and the film's, moment of magic. Horrocks' metamorphosis from starling to star is worth cherishing. But stay around for Caine's bilious rendition of Roy Orbison...
Despite protests to the contrary, the Aztec "concept" computer Intel showed off last week is strikingly similar to Apple's iMac: it's small and colorful, the trippy case is sealed shut and there's no floppy. Intel hopes the stylish design will lure buyers put off by the drab, hulking PCs sold now. The chipmaker won't actually make the machine, but is prodding PC vendors to do so by late next year...
...like it that the wood and mud-brick houses of towns have yet to become drab, concrete cities, that the villagers have not traded their packhorses for personal cars, that food is still cooked in hot pots over live, burning coals, that the women still wear their brightly colored headdresses and ethnic dress. Perhaps even the fact that I cannot access the latest international newspapers has been therapeutic for this would-be journalist...
Furtive infrequent forays into the Free State aside, the narrator spends most of his days in less resplendent parts of Northern Ireland than stream's edge. His is a rather drab, traditional world, where the Catholic Church is the final arbiter of any question, but where religious allegiance must be downplayed to avoid the attention of the Protestant authorities, who are especially vigilant in the years following World War II in which the book is set. Old grudges are fresh in this society, and memories of the not-so-distant rebellions are almost more vivid than the events of daily...