I might risk focusing too much on character motivation and psychologizing Sasha in this post, but I think the novel is so much about Sasha’s consciousness and how and why it functions as it does so it’s kind of unavoidable for me. In Good Morning, Midnight, Sasha’s experience of time seems to have a cyclical and static rather than linear quality. Thinking of past and future are expressed in repetition: “tomorrow, tomorrow…” and “…Back, back, back…” (57) with the ellipses connoting endless regression or momentum, a kind of infinite repeating that continues until it dissolves and there is nothing but a gap, an oblivion of the kind that Sasha seeks through drinking, dreams of annihilation, and her moments of extreme passivity and immobility. But “tomorrow, tomorrow” and “back, back” and similar repetitions throughout the novel could also be interpreted as a kind of mantra or incantation. Especially when she is considering her future actions, she is willing herself in the future rather than in the present (promising herself she will only have so many drinks in the near future, promising herself future brief satisfactions from the ritual of shopping (sort of brief, two hours is a long time to shop for a hat in one place)). I think an argument could be made that Sasha’s trauma, the trauma of having lost her baby but also the trauma of poverty in her past, has changed her sense of time, and this trauma which is very much part of her daily experience leads to her constant evasion of the present moment, but it is difficult for me to say what exactly the present moment is for Sasha since the past and the future are very much so the present in this novel. This is reflected in the form of the novel, which maintains present-tense stream of consciousness narration in flashbacks. When we are reading about Sasha’s experience losing her baby, she writes (thinks? speaks?): “Back, back, back…This has happened many times” (58). I think that the relationship to time is the most significant reason why Sasha refers to herself as having a “film-mind.” A film is a document of time, when you’re watching it has a linear progression that you flow along with (like Sasha’s thoughts flow along in the constant present of the book), but since it’s a recorded medium it’s also timeless in every moment. Beginning, middle, and end of the film are all accessible to the viewer at any time (not literally, but you get my point). Sasha’s mind, the novel’s form, and film, make a paradox of time, presenting it as something in motion but never changing, cyclical and static, yet infinite because you can move backwards and forwards in it forever. Like Marcher in Beast in the Jungle, Sasha fails to experience normative time; her failures/traumas disrupt normative time. Unlike Marcher, Sasha appears to have no desire to rectify this rupture and instead seems to want to absorb herself in these gaps, moments of stillness and unproductivity. She lays in bed watching the curtains and shadows, “The musty smell, the bugs, the loneliness, this room, which is part of the street outside– this is all I want from life” (131). Helmer’s argues that Marcher is able to conceptualize himself in normative time through his relationship to Bertram and thereby a relationship to knowledge as something that can be dug up, uncovered, and this organizes time linearly. But while Marcher strives to create normative time, and strives to know, Sasha strives to not-know, to let the gaps in her memory and thought be gaps, to obliterate and annihilate knowledge. Marcher wants to bring knowledge to light but Sasha wants to keep it in the dark.