The harmlessly sounding title of the novel actually ended up being a story that isn’t for the faint of heart. As a disclaimer straight away, I’d only suggest this book to readers who feel to be in a stable state of mind. Reading up on trigger warnings would be a good idea as well since you would be facing a narrative filled with emotional trauma, eating disorders, emotionally abusive relationships, obsessive consumption of alcohol and mentions of suicidal thoughts. Most importantly though, the main character whose name is never mentioned but who carries the entire story, is written about in such a way that would probably make most readers despise her.

“Is your friend hungry?” one woman asked.
“Pretty flowers,” said another.
“So you’re the friend we’ve heard so much about,” said the third.”

p. 130

[…] I was tall and thin and blond and pretty and young. Even at my worst, I knew I still looked good.

p. 27

Without my inheritance, I would have been forced to find a job that paid more money. And I would probably have had to live in Brooklyn, with roommates. I was lucky to have my dead parents’ money, I knew, but that was also depressing.

p. 37

This might just be me but I’m quite picky concerning book covers and especially the meanings behind them. As you could read in the quotes above, the main character is blond, whereas a brunette woman is portrayed on the cover. On a search of trying to figure out why it was chosen, I was able to find out that it was designed by Darren Hagger and that the artwork is “Portrait of a Young Woman in White,” painted in 1798 by Jacques-Louis David (Temple, 2017). It’s mostly her vibe that is connecting to the protagonist, a reviewer having described it as “her face gives away everything a reader should know about the tome. She’s clearly from high society, yet she’s bored to tears and can’t help but let an eye-roll slip. That, in a nutshell, is Moshfegh’s protagonist” (Rankin, 2018).

Since adolescence, I’d vacillated between wanting to look like the spoiled WASP that I was and the bum that I felt I was and should have been if I’d had any courage. I’d shopped at Bergdorf’s and Barneys and high-end vintage boutiques in the East Village. The result was an amazing wardrobe, my main professional asset as a new college graduate. I easily landed the job as a gallery girl at Ducat, one of a dozen “fine art” galleries on West Twenty-first Street.

p. 35

Without spoiling anything of the plot, the supposedly “restful” year entailed a year of “relaxation” and sleep induced by heavy medication, which the main character got prescribed by a psychiatrist. I found it quite disturbing how the subject matter was dealt with, the physical consequences of a consumption of medication that sounded like a deadly dose not having been elaborated upon. It was impressive how regardless of how little happened throughout the chapters, I still felt motivated to read on, mostly to finally find out how the story would end. The style was simple, the phrases flowed with ease and one quickly got sucked into a reading flow.

But she was right about me. I was “on drugs.” I took upwards of a dozen pills a day. But it was all very regulated, I thought. It was all totally aboveboard. I just wanted to sleep all the time. I had a plan.

p. 11

When reading fiction, the key indicator of a book that I would have enjoyed would be the aspect of it bringing up specific feelings in me. In the case of “My Year of Rest and Relaxation” this definitely applied. I found myself being repelled by how conceited, privileged, condescending, unlikeable, unfriendly, cruel, disgusting and inconsiderate the heroine was. I believe that it is a talent of a writer to put together such a special character. Even though it was clear that she has gone through a difficult and disturbing childhood with her parents, one couldn’t help but judge her for her thoughts and actions.

My parents died one after the other my junior year of college – first my dad from cancer, then my mother from pills and alcohol six weeks later.

p. 49

I tried to think of the worst thing I could say about a person. What was the cruelest, most cutting, truest thing? Was it worth saying? Reva was harmless. She wasn’t a bad person. She’d done nothing to hurt me. I was the one sitting there full of disgust, wearing her dead mother’s shoes.

p. 163

A wide variety of topics is spoken about: toxic heterosexual relationships where the women are being taken advantage of, toxic parental relationships with their children, incompetent medical practitioners and a criticism of the modern art world. Especially the latter is looked upon critically, dissecting the way that its surroundings propagate privilege, only letting members of an already elevated class into it. The dynamics of artists with connections, art galleries only hiring girls resembling models and the power dynamics of underpaying employees of these galleries while selling artworks for millions were portrayed in a satiric way.

The art world had turned out to be like the stock market, a reflection of political trends and the persuasions of capitalism, fueled by greed and gossip and cocaine. I might as well have worked on Wall Street. Speculation and opinions drove not only the market but the products, sadly, the values of which were hinged not to the ineffable quality of art as a sacred human ritual – a value impossible to measure, anyway – but to what a bunch of rich assholes thought would “elevate” their portfolios and inspire jealousy and, delusional as they all were, respect. I was perfectly happy to wipe out all that garbage from my mind.

p. 182

“It’s not about the men,” she said. “Women are so judgmental. They’re always comparing.”
“But why do you care? It’s not a contest.”
“Yes, it is. You just can’t see it because you’ve always been the winner.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I said. But I knew Reva was right. I was hot shit. People were always telling me I looked like Amber Valletta.

p. 144

On a general note, I was glad about having gotten through the book in a week because I did feel like it was dragging me down mentally. Judging by what I have read out of reviews on the novel, I probably wouldn’t have picked it up myself. My push towards it came about due to the author attending a literary talk in Barcelona and I was curious to discover her work before attending it. This wouldn’t be a book that I would recommend to others but I have become curious about the author’s writing and will give another one of her novels a try.

★★★☆☆ (3/5)

_{Edition: ISBN 978-1-784-87747-7
Vintage, 2021 (first published in 2018)}

Sources:

Rankin, S. (2018): “How Whoopi Goldberg and American Psycho influenced this summer’s best novel”. Entertainment Weekly. https://ew.com/books/2018/07/19/ottessa-moshfegh-my-year-of-rest-and-relaxation-inspirations/. Last accessed: 26/02/2024.

Temple, E. (2017): “A Look at My Year of Rest and Relaxation”. Lit Hub. https://lithub.com/see-it-here-the-cover-for-ottessa-moshfeghs-new-novel/. Last accessed: 26/02/2024.