Her eloquence in the language of human sexual transactions is chilling, cynical, and surprisingly moving'

Good Morning, Midnight Summary and Study Guide | SuperSummary

Money. Every care in the world centers on money, swirls around money like a whirlpool. She borrows money from friends, some give her money out of exasperation or kindness or … whatever. Okay, so maybe Rhys isn’t such a great role model either. I could see how her world-view might have the same warping effect on a certain type of girl as Miller’s does on a certain type of boy. But I still say Good Morning, Midnight is a more grown-up book than Tropic of Cancer, just as Rhys’s Paris—glum, bitchy, lower middle-class—is less romanticized than Miller’s Brassai-esque version. Mental illness? Depression? Alcoholism? What shelf should I put this under? Bleak? All in all, not a pretty story, but fascinating in its way, fast-paced, written in a stream-of-consciousness format. Its deep psychological insight kept my attention all the way through.What 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.

Good Morning, Midnight (Rhys novel) - Wikipedia

This idea of seeking comfort by staying in bed brings forth another theme: her preoccupation with rooms. The rooms that she lives in become another way that routines and structures are imposed – both physically and emotionally. Physically, it gives Sasha somewhere to hide: An actress, Selma vaz Dias, a Rhys fan, had adapted GMM as a radio play, and needed Jean’s permission, but everyone was telling her Jean Rhys was dead. (Jean, drunk for years, totally out of touch with literary London, almost – but not quite – forgotten.) Jean saw the ad and replied. And then, on 16 November, ANOTHER drunken row with the neighbours. For some reason I am very vexed at this. I start wondering why I am there at all… I want to get away. I want to be out of the place […] I want to go by myself, to get into a taxi and drive along the street, to stand by myself and look down at the fountains in the cold light. Somehow she feels she never figured out how to be like other people and how to lead a ‘normal’ life like everyone else: “Faites comme les autres – that’s been my motto all my life. Faites comme les autres, damn you… I am trying so hard to be like you. I know I don’t succeed, but look how hard I try.”

In Paris, Sasha passes the time going to cafés, drinking, taking sleep medication, and lounging in her room. She often encounters her neighbor in the hall or on the stairs. He’s always in a nightgown and is very eager to talk to her, but she finds him unnerving. Her social interactions are limited; she just wanders through the city and wonders what other people think of her. Sitting in bars with a glass of absinthe, she often breaks into tears at unexpected moments. Because of this tendency to cry, she’s well acquainted with the many bar bathrooms of Paris, where she escapes to weep while staring at herself in the mirror. I use the term ‘nonunitary subjectivity’ following Rosi Braidotti’s elaboration of Deleuze and Guttari’s concept of nomadism (2011). The book initially sold poorly—critics thought it well written, but too depressing—and after its publication Rhys spent a decade living in obscurity. It was not until it was adapted by Selma Vaz Dias into a radio play, first broadcast by the BBC in 1957, that Rhys was once again put into the spotlight. A disjointed narrative, hard to decide when this piece and that piece are taking place, but mostly in Paris, between the wars, Jean a woman who has had some happiness, but little enough.

Good Morning, Midnight Character Analysis | LitCharts Good Morning, Midnight Character Analysis | LitCharts

She contemplates suicide, not once, more than once, perhaps even with some regularity when things are going especially badly. Even friends or at least acquaintances in London, joking at her, asking why she doesn’t drown herself in the Seine … ah so funny, just what she needs to hear.The author (1890-1979) was born on the Caribbean island of Dominica but left to go to school in England when she was 16. She had three husbands and spent much of her life wandering in the European capitals. One husband was a con-man and ended up in prison. She wrote a half-dozen novels, most of which, Wikipedia tells us (like this one), portray a mistreated, dumped, rootless woman inhabiting cheap hotels. I light a cigarette and drink the coffee slowly. As I am doing this two girls walk in . . . Theodore waddles up to their table and talks to them. The tall girl speaks French very well. I can’t hear what Theodore is saying, but I watch his mouth moving and the huge moon-face under the tall chef’s cap. He doesn’t say anything. Thank God, he doesn’t say anything. I look straight into his eyes and despise another poor devil of a human being for the last time. For the last time . . . recognition is insignificant only as a speculative model. It ceases to be so with regard to the ends which it serves and to which it leads us. What is recognised is not only an object but also the values attached to an object.