هذه التركيبة غير موجودة.
The only thing to do is to put hammers in the porridge and when thereare enough hammers we shall break down the windows and all of us shalldance in the snow. Some days, Marthe Gail believes she is God; others, Jesus Christ. Her baby,she thinks, is dead. The red light is shining. There are bars on the window.And the voices keep talking. Time blurs; snow falls. The doctors say it is a breakdown; that this isGorestown State Hospital. Her fellow patients become friends and enemies,moving between the Day Room and Dining Hall, East Hall and West Side,avoiding the Strong Room. Her husband visits and shows her a lock of herbaby's hair, but she doesn't remember, yet - until she can make it upstairs, ascendingtowards release ... Shocking and hilarious, tragic and visceral, this experimental portrait ofmotherhood and mental illness written in 1930 - just before Woolf's TheWaves and 33 years before Plath's The Bell Jar - has never felt more visionary.
