Good Morning, Midnight by Jean Rhys
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
I read Rhys’ Wide Sargasso Sea along time ago in a Woman’s lit class and liked it. This is my second book by her, and it is bleak. A woman stripped bare and empty by despair, wishing for annihilation, prowls the cafes and darkened hotel rooms of Paris preyed on by the puppets and jackals of humanity. Fits on the shelf next to Celine, Henry Miller’s Parisian rants, Camus’ The Stranger, and Djuna Barnes’ nutty Nightwood, but is a little grimmer than any of them.
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