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Read Good Morning eBook ☆ Paperback Ï In 1930s Paris where one cheap hotel room is very like another a young woman is teaching herself indifference She has escaped personal tragedy and has come to France to find courage and seek independence She tells herself to expect nothing especially not kindness least of all from men Tomorrow she resolvIn 1930s Paris where one cheap hotel room is very like another a young woman is teaching herself indifference Sh After the first week I made up my mind to kill myself the usual whiff of chloroform Next week or next month or next year I’ll kill myself These are words spoken with truth and clarity They’re simple and honest And not for a single moment in the novel did I doubt them not for a single moment did I conceive that there could be an alternative ending I’m not going to sugar coat it for you this isn’t a nice novel There is very little in the way of redemptive themes and the motif of freedom is only fully achieved through the ultimate rejection of human happiness and interpersonal relationships Sasha Jensen is on a downward spiral of self destruction She’s been hurt to the point of no return This isn’t a simple case of a wound that time can heal; it is a wound so deep that it will always remain open And the narrative doesn’t reveal this straight away Firstly we see a glimpse of Sasha and begin to realise the maladaptive nature of her behaviour She doesn’t physically self harm but on an emotional level she is destroying her soul So in a sense her behaviour can easily be defined as self destructive She is drinking copious amounts of alcohol to numb the pain that is life; she has been shit on and she just couldn’t pick herself up Some people are stronger than others and initially I found myself uestioning Sasha’s vulnerability However as the novel progressed it does become clear how such a situation can be born “And when I say afraid that’s just a word I use What I really mean is I hate them I hate their voices I hate their eyes I hate the way they laughI hate the whole bloody business It’s cruel it’s idiotic it’s unspeakably horrible I never had the guts to kill myself or I’d have got out of it a long time ago So much the worse for me Let’s leave it at that”She is at a point where she sees no light in the hearts of men She is a misanthrope a hater of mankind For her there is nothing left to love for She’s lost it all She tries to relive the dream of her youth but she doesn’t alter her behaviour; she carries on in her woe and it is her end It’s a miserable book full of darkness and despair and at the centre of it is a character not unlike people in real life Sasha is the woman who has had her heart broken; she is the woman who loved and lost she is the loner And in these pages is an evocative tale of human suffering which is the fate that befalls many of us Through her relationship with men the novel explores typical gender roles At times they are reversed Typically speaking literary representations of relationships tend to follow gender stereotyped behaviours I don’t need to point them out but in this they are subverted And this does give Sasha some freedom though she doesn’t fully explore it she is far to damaged The novel also openly discusses homosexuality in men and women which is ridiculously ahead of its time The Victorians often betrayed such things but it was cryptic and repressed this is blatant However these modern themes were not enough to rejuvenate one so broken It seems appropriate to end with the poem for which this novel is named It’s worth reading it alongside the novel Poem 425 by Emily Dickenson Good Morning—Midnight—I'm coming Home—Day—got tired of Me—How could I—of HimSunshine was a sweet place—I liked to stay—But Morn—didn't want me—now—So—Goodnight—DayI can look—can't I—When the East is RedThe Hills—have a way—then—That puts the Heart—abroad—You—are not so fair—Midnight—I chose—Day—But—please take a little Girl—He turned away

Jean Rhys ↠ Good Morning, Midnight text

E has escaped personal tragedy and has come to France to find courage and seek independence She tells herself to Electric stream of consciousness novel whose action largely takes place in the margins Rhys is an extraordinary writer of inner state and she finds a surprising amount of observational humor in the struggles of her narrator Sophia Jansen who has returned to Paris years after a tragedy This is one of the great novels of alcoholism that I have read as Jansen finds both release and embarrassment in her mash together of days Characters mainly men flit in and out of this book in a daze and though the cinema plays a major part in the action there is freuent slippage into the past Somehow though the story is told in bits we assemble a life Rhys has given us the best kind of unreliable narrator here one who is unreliable even to herself and though there's not much in terms of scene work to latch onto the novel is very fast I wish it had done well and that she had continued in this vein after the novel failed to do well Rhys dropped out of the public eye for 20 years because in its focus on sexuality and the mind this should have stood as a work of modernism Reminiscent of Alfred Hayes who I love

reader Ü ↠ Jean Rhys

Good Morning MidnightExpect nothing especially not kindness least of all from men Tomorrow she resolves she will dye her hair blonde Today I must be careful today I have left my armour at home Little by little everything turns to break her How she suffers in isolation and feels conjoined and yet detached with all that is damned and discarded and how this leads to an intensification of the loneliness she feels Defenseless willing to run away from this and everything every moment of living chased and cursed by unkindness condescension and mockery As if everyone who is a part of this ruthless world has merged into that collective derisive laughter that is directed towards her and rings in her ears every time and everywhere she goes I have no pride – no pride no name no face No country I don’t belong anywhere Too sad too sad Floating from one fragment to the other with nothing to stay on she sheds them all off only to reveal that dry crust of loneliness There no sense of deceptiveness about Sasha Jensen no delusion with a kind of living which keeps back some frightful disturbance roaring underneath Everything has been served on the surface sparsely cut to pieces; the sadness the brokenness the joylessness of life In the middle of the night you wake up You start to cry What’s happening to me Oh my life oh my youth It is not just the loneliness it’s the inability to pull oneself out of it of making nothing out of her youth of pouring out her existence into the vapidness of the Parisian cafes seedy hotel rooms Of being the failed participant of her own life Her life which is splattered on those forgetful streets and bars where everyone is cruel everyone disapproves She is the witness of her dissolution And how hard she tries to sink in her invisibility the muteness of her self But think how hard I try and how seldom I dare Think and have a bit of pity That is if you ever think you apes which I doubt Planning it all out Eating A movie Eating again One drink A long walk to the hotel Bed Luminal Sleep Just sleep no dreams She tries to grab some silly hope some plan as if the fulfillment of it would mean something would change something; a hotel room with a bath or a dress at the store A new hat a new dress new hair a good meal; a reinvention that would not have the pieces of the past sticking on her Something that would mean a symbolic relief from the past the present the sadness and the loneliness Its all right Tomorrow I will be pretty again I’ll be happy again tomorrow tomorrow I want one thing and one thing only to be left alone No pawings no prying – leave me alone This strong desire for isolation also comes from a hysterical nervousness and dread of unknown people and places their hostility towards a certain kind of conspicuousness that only comes from a certain degree of wretchedness This hostility that slits open her wounds and makes her crumble into the dampness of tears and pain You want to know what I am afraid of All right I’ll tell youI’m afraid of men yes I’m very much afraid of men And I’m even afraid of womenWhat is it one looks for in others when one is that lonely How differently and acutely observant and intuitive does that make a person And how distrustful She knows there is something in her that makes them see through her Is it the sadness the compliance the vulnerability It makes them so hateful so pitiless But there is no self pity in Sasha Jensen but a terrible ache a yearning inside It is something that can never be filled for its moment of birth is already over Saved rescued fished up half drowned out of the deep dark river dry clothes hair shampooed and set Nobody would know I had ever been in it Except of course that there always remains something Yes there always remains somethingNever mind here I am sane and dry with my place to hide in What do I wantI'm a bit of an automaton but sane surely dry cold and sane Now I have forgotten about dark streets dark rivers the pain the struggle and the drowningMind you I'm not talking about the struggle when you are strong and a good swimmer and there are willing and eager friends on the bank waiting to pull you out at the first sign of distress I mean the real thing You jump in with no willing and eager friends around and when you sink you sink to the accompaniment of loud laughter