Our expert must decide the outcome, with all its implications for the town’s future. Regina Goode, the mayor, is a descendent of the black settlers who founded the town, and has her own secret agenda for what the name should be. Who could argue with that? Albie Winthrop, beloved son of the town’s aristocracy, thinks Winthrop is a perfectly good name, and can’t imagine what the fuss is about.
#Apex hides the hurt software#
Lucky Aberdeen, the millionaire software pioneer and hometown-boy-made-good, wants the name changed to something that will reflect the town’s capitalist aspirations, attracting new businesses and revitalizing the community. Once there, he meets the town council, who will try to sway his opinion over the coming days.
#Apex hides the hurt skin#
“Flesh-colored” be damned-no matter what your skin tone is-Apex will match it, or your money back.Īfter leaving his job (following a mysterious misfortune), his expertise is called upon by the town of Winthrop. Apex is his crowning achievement, the multicultural bandage that has revolutionized the adhesive bandage industry. And of course, whenever you take a fall, reach for Apex, because Apex Hides the Hurt. Always the wallflower at social gatherings? Try Loquacia. Wardrobe lack pizzazz? Come to the Outfit Outlet. The 'hurt' of the Apex tag line is deviously resonant, poetically invoking banal scrapes and deep-seated, historical injustice both types of wounds are festering in the town of Winthrop, which looks like a midwestern anytown but was founded by ex-slaves migrating during Reconstruction. If you want just the right name for your new product, whether it be automobile or antidepressant, sneaker or spoon, he’s the man to get the job done. The protagonist of Apex Hides the Hurt is a nomenclature consultant. When the citizens of Winthrop needed a new name for their town, they did what anyone would do-they hired a consultant. ( Mar.From the MacArthur and Whiting Award–winning author of John Henry Days and The Intuitionist comes a new, brisk, comic tour de force about identity,history, and the adhesive bandage industry Whitehead's third novel attempts to confront a very large problem: How can a society progress while keeping a real sense of history-when a language for that history doesn't exist and progress itself seems bankrupt? But he doesn't give the problem enough room enough to develop, and none of his characters is rich enough to give it weight. The bickering runs its course listlessly, and a last-minute discovery provides a convenient, bittersweet resolution. The Apex backstory spins out in a slow, retrospective treatment that competes with the town's travails. Quirky what's-in-a-name?–style pontificating follows, and it often feels as if Whitehead is just thinking out loud as the nomenclature consultant weighs the arguments, meets the citizens and worries over the mysterious "misfortune" that has recently shaken his faith in his work (and even taken one of his toes).
"Lucky" Aberdine, a white local boy turned software magnate, favors the professionally crafted New Prospera and no-visible-means-of-support "Uncle Albie" Winthrop (also white) sees no sense in changing the town's long-standing name-which, of course, happens to be his own. Of the three council members, Mayor Regina Goode, who is black and a descendant of the town's founders, wants to revert to the town's original name, Freedom. Winthrop's town council, locked in a dispute over the town's name, have called in the protagonist to decide. The "hurt" of the Apex tag line is deviously resonant, poetically invoking banal scrapes and deep-seated, historical injustice both types of wounds are festering in the town of Winthrop, which looks like a midwestern anytown but was founded by ex-slaves migrating during Reconstruction. (2004), a paean to New York City, Whitehead disappoints in this intriguingly conceived but static tale of a small town with an identity crisis.Ī conspicuously unnamed African-American "nomenclature consultant" has had big success in branding Apex bandages, which come in custom shades to match any skin tone.
(2001), and the nonfiction The Colossus of New York
0 kommentar(er)
