Read way too fast Were you in a hurry? Reviewer: notmyname - favorite favorite favorite favorite - February 8, Subject: Very good recording Just listened to this, right after listening to Hugh McGuire's version. This is a very good recording, easily on par with that one. The reader is male and Irish and very expressive. He sometimes speaks quite fast but is never difficult to follow, at least not for me an American unfamiliar with Irish accents.
Good sound quality and in one section a rather nice effect where the voices gradually recede as they call goodbye. One mispronunciation I noticed: "impetus" for "impetuous. Reviewer: mlwvandenberg - favorite favorite - December 19, Subject: horrible Annoying gay and snobish voice and he talks to fast. Reviewer: squirrel99 - favorite favorite favorite favorite favorite - December 15, Subject: The Dead - James Joyce An excelent character study that leads the reader smoothly from one emotion to another.
Well read by a single reader. Of course, they had good reason to be fussy on such a night. And then it was long after ten o'clock and yet there was no sign of Gabriel and his wife.
Besides they were dreadfully afraid that Freddy Malins might turn up screwed. They would not wish for worlds that any of Mary Jane's pupils should see him under the influence; and when he was like that it was sometimes very hard to manage him.
Freddy Malins always came late, but they wondered what could be keeping Gabriel: and that was what brought them every two minutes to the banisters to ask Lily had Gabriel or Freddy come. Conroy," said Lily to Gabriel when she opened the door for him, "Miss Kate and Miss Julia thought you were never coming. Good-night, Mrs. He stood on the mat, scraping the snow from his goloshes, while Lily led his wife to the foot of the stairs and called out:.
Kate and Julia came toddling down the dark stairs at once. Both of them kissed Gabriel's wife, said she must be perished alive, and asked was Gabriel with her. Go on up. I'll follow," called out Gabriel from the dark. He continued scraping his feet vigorously while the three women went upstairs, laughing, to the ladies' dressing-room. A light fringe of snow lay like a cape on the shoulders of his overcoat and like toecaps on the toes of his goloshes; and, as the buttons of his overcoat slipped with a squeaking noise through the snow-stiffened frieze, a cold, fragrant air from out-of-doors escaped from crevices and folds.
She had preceded him into the pantry to help him off with his overcoat. Gabriel smiled at the three syllables she had given his surname and glanced at her. She was a slim, growing girl, pale in complexion and with hay-coloured hair.
The gas in the pantry made her look still paler. Gabriel had known her when she was a child and used to sit on the lowest step nursing a rag doll. He looked up at the pantry ceiling, which was shaking with the stamping and shuffling of feet on the floor above, listened for a moment to the piano and then glanced at the girl, who was folding his overcoat carefully at the end of a shelf.
Gabriel coloured, as if he felt he had made a mistake and, without looking at her, kicked off his goloshes and flicked actively with his muffler at his patent-leather shoes. He was a stout, tallish young man.
The high colour of his cheeks pushed upwards even to his forehead, where it scattered itself in a few formless patches of pale red; and on his hairless face there scintillated restlessly the polished lenses and the bright gilt rims of the glasses which screened his delicate and restless eyes.
His glossy black hair was parted in the middle and brushed in a long curve behind his ears where it curled slightly beneath the groove left by his hat. When he had flicked lustre into his shoes he stood up and pulled his waistcoat down more tightly on his plump body.
Then he took a coin rapidly from his pocket. He waited outside the drawing-room door until the waltz should finish, listening to the skirts that swept against it and to the shuffling of feet. He was still discomposed by the girl's bitter and sudden retort. It had cast a gloom over him which he tried to dispel by arranging his cuffs and the bows of his tie.
He then took from his waistcoat pocket a little paper and glanced at the headings he had made for his speech. He was undecided about the lines from Robert Browning, for he feared they would be above the heads of his hearers. Some quotation that they would recognise from Shakespeare or from the Melodies would be better. The indelicate clacking of the men's heels and the shuffling of their soles reminded him that their grade of culture differed from his.
He would only make himself ridiculous by quoting poetry to them which they could not understand. Great book, The Dead pdf is enough to raise the goose bumps alone. Add a review Your Rating: Your Comment:.
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