Miss Lonelyhearts E-Book

Nathanael West

• Herausgeber: Daunt Books
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Beschreibung

Day after day, 'Miss Lonelyhearts' sits in his office responding to letters from 'Broken-hearted, Sick-of-it-all, and Desperate', dispensing words of hope, inspiration, and other platitudes to get his readers through their tormented days. But it's all getting to be too much for Miss Lonelyhearts. Under the weight of his colleagues' mockery and the endless gloom of his correspondence, Miss Lonelyhearts finds himself crippled with cynicism and dysfunction. Set in New York City at the height of the Great Depression, Miss Lonelyhearts stands as one of the most intelligent and hilarious works of the 20th century. Laced with dark humour, irony, and razor-sharp insight, this novel is as hauntingly relevant today as it was nearly a hundred years ago. 'Wildly funny, desperately sad, brutal and kind, furious and patient, there was no other like Nathanael West.' - Dorothy Parker 'In dark times, Miss Lonelyhearts shines the brightest light in the blackest places. For this reason West's novel has never felt more alive than today.' - The Daily Beast 'A miniature comic epic.' - Edmund Wilson 'Rendered with scalpel-precision . . . Nathanael West's masterpiece is a mercilessly unsympathetic novel on the theme of sympathy.' - Jonathan Lethem

Leseprobe

‘Wildly funny, desperately sad, brutal and kind, furious and patient, there was no other like Nathanael West.’ Dorothy Parker

‘West is the one writer who, along with Flannery O’Connor, deserves singular attention as a rare American satirist.’ John Hawkes

‘In dark times, Miss Lonelyhearts shines the brightest light in the blackest places … West’s novel has never felt more alive than today.’ The Daily Beast

‘Rendered with scalpel-precision … the great precursor to Joseph Heller, Thomas Pynchon, Philip K. Dick, George Saunders, and so much else.’ Jonathan Lethem

To Max

Contents

Title PageDedicationMiss Lonelyhearts, Help Me, Help MeMiss Lonelyhearts and the Dead PanMiss Lonelyhearts and the LambMiss Lonelyhearts and the Fat ThumbMiss Lonelyhearts and the Clean Old ManMiss Lonelyhearts and Mrs ShrikeMiss Lonelyhearts on a Field TripMiss Lonelyhearts in the Dismal SwampMiss Lonelyhearts in the CountryMiss Lonelyhearts ReturnsMiss Lonelyhearts and the CrippleMiss Lonelyhearts Pays a VisitMiss Lonelyhearts Attends a PartyMiss Lonelyhearts and the Party DressMiss Lonelyhearts Has a Religious ExperienceAbout the AuthorCopyright

Miss Lonelyhearts, Help Me, Help Me

The Miss Lonelyhearts of the New York Post-Dispatch (Are-you-in-trouble? – Do-you-need-advice? – Write-to-Miss-Lonelyhearts-and-she-will-help-you) sat at his desk and stared at a piece of white cardboard. On it a prayer had been printed by Shrike, the feature editor.

Soul of Miss L, glorify me.

Body of Miss L, nourish me

Blood of Miss L, intoxicate me.

Tears of Miss L, wash me.

Oh good Miss L, excuse my plea,

And hide me in your heart,

And defend me from mine enemies.

Help me, Miss L, help me, help me.

In sæcula sæculorum. Amen.

Although the deadline was less than a quarter of an hour away, he was still working on his leader. He had gone as far as: ‘Life is worthwhile, for it is full of dreams and peace, gentleness and ecstasy, and faith that burns like a clear white flame on a grim dark altar.’ But he found it impossible to continue. The letters were no longer funny. He could not go on finding the same joke funny thirty times a day for months on end. And on most days he received more than thirty letters, all of them alike, stamped from the dough of suffering with a heart-shaped cookie knife.

On his desk were piled those he had received this morning. He started through them again, searching for some clue to a sincere answer.

Dear Miss Lonelyhearts—

I am in such pain I dont know what to do sometimes I think I will kill myself my kidneys hurt so much. My husband thinks no woman can be a good catholic and not have children irregardless of the pain. I was married honorable from our church but I never knew what married life meant as I never was told about man and wife. My grandmother never told me and she was the only mother I had but made a big mistake by not telling me as it dont pay to be inocent and is only a big disapointment. I have 7 children in 12 yrs and ever since the last 2 I have been so sick. I was operatored on twice and my husband promised no more children on the doctors advice as he said I might die but when I got back from the hospital he broke his promise and now I am going to have a baby and I dont think I can stand it my kidneys hurt so much. I am so sick and scared because I cant have an abortion on account of being a catholic and my husband so religious. I cry all the time it hurts so much and I dont know what to do.

Yours respectfully,

Sick-of-it-all

Miss Lonelyhearts threw the letter into an open drawer and lit a cigarette.

Dear Miss Lonelyhearts—

I am sixteen years old now and I dont know what to do and would appreciate it if you could tell me what to do. When I was a little girl it was not so bad because I got used to the kids on the block makeing fun of me, but now I would like to have boy friends like the other girls and go out on Saturday nites, but no boy will take me because I was born without a nose – although I am a good dancer and have a nice shape and my father buys me pretty clothes.

I sit and look at myself all day and cry. I have a big hole in the middle of my face that scares people even myself so I cant blame the boys for not wanting to take me out. My mother loves me, but she crys terrible when she looks at me.

What did I do to deserve such a terrible bad fate? Even if I did do some bad things I didnt do any before I was a year old and I was born this way. I asked Papa and he says he doesnt know, but that maybe I did something in the other world before I was born or that maybe I was being punished for his sins. I dont believe that because he is a very nice man. Ought I commit suicide?

Sincerely yours,

Desperate

The cigarette was imperfect and refused to draw. Miss Lonelyhearts took it out of his mouth and stared at it furiously. He fought himself quiet, then lit another one.

Dear Miss Lonelyhearts—