The Notebooks

The Blue Notebook

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Yesterday she even told Tommy that he ought to be planning for his old age. Can you beat it?’ We laugh together, but it’s no good. She goes downstairs, saying good night. She says it gently (as I said good night to Janet) and I know it is because she is unhappy for me because Michael won’t come. It is nearly eleven now; and I know he won’t come. The telephone rings and it is Michael. ‘Anna, forgive me, but I can’t come tonight after all.’ I say it is quite all right. He says: ‘I’ll ring you tomorrow — or in a couple of days. Good night, Anna.’ He adds, fumbling with the words: ‘I’m sorry if you cooked especially for me.’ The if suddenly makes me furious. Then it strikes me as odd that I should be angry over such a little thing, and I even laugh. He hears the laugh, and says: ‘Ah, yes, Anna, yes …’ Meaning that I am heartless and don’t care for him. But I suddenly can’t stand this, and say: ‘Good night, Michael,’ and ring off.

I take all the food off the stove, carefully saving what can be used, and throwing the rest away — nearly everything. I sit and think: Well, if he rings me tomorrow … But I know he won’t. I realize, at last, that this is the end. I go to see if Janet is asleep — I know she is, but I have to look. Then I know that an awful black whirling chaos is just outside me, waiting to move into me. I must go to sleep quickly, before I become that chaos. I am trembling with misery and with tiredness. I fill a tumbler full of wine and drink it, quickly. Then I get into bed. My head is swimming with the wine. Tomorrow, I think — tomorrow — I’ll be responsible, face my future, and refuse to be miserable. Then I sleep, but before I am even asleep I can hear myself crying, the sleep-crying, this time all pain, no enjoyment in it at all.

 

[The whole of the above was scored through — cancelled out and scribbled underneath: No, it didn't come off. A failure as usual. Underneath was written, in different handwriting, more neat and orderly than the long entry, which was flowing and untidy:]

 

15th September, 1954

A normal day. During the course of a discussion with John Butte and Jack I decided to leave the Party. I must now be careful not to start hating the Party in the way we do hate stages of our life we have outgrown. Noted signs of it already: moments of disliking Jack which were quite irrational. Janet as usual, no problems. Molly worried, I think with reason, over Tommy. She has a hunch he will marry his new girl. Well, her hunches usually come off. I realized that Michael had finally decided to break it off. I must pull myself together.

The Notebooks

The Blue Notebook

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3 Comments

  1. Naomi Alderman December 3rd, 2008 at 6:22 am

    “15th September, 1954

    A normal day.”

    Is it relevant that this seems to be the wrong date? Or have I misread something? On UK 296 she writes an entry for 15 September 1954 saying that she’ll record the next day (ie the 16th) precisely as it happens. And then on the 17th she writes an entry saying “I could not write last night because I was too unhappy”. Meaning that the 16th is the day covered by this long, detailed entry. But then this new version, after the crossings out, says it’s the 15th. Typo, misreading on my part, or something with meaning?

    1. Laura Kipnis December 9th, 2008 at 12:49 pm

      What an attentive reader you are!

      1. Naomi Alderman December 9th, 2008 at 3:29 pm

        Hah, thank you. But what does it *mean*?!