“…so I traveled more peacefully through outer space, listening to the rhythm of my respiration, each breath an echo of the breath before, softer and softer, until I was far enough away that there was no sound, there was no movement. There was no need for reassurance or directionality because I was nowhere, doing nothing. I was nothing. I was gone.”

My Year of Rest and Relaxation explores what happens when privilege and vanity meet trauma and despair. It follows our main character as she embarks on a mission to fall asleep for a full year, and slowly descends into drug abuse and desperation.

I found this book strangely comforting. I feel I’ve rated it too highly, because the whole time I questioned “why am I enjoying this?” The characters are deeply vain and unlikable, especially the main character. The most likeable character is Reva, and it takes quite awhile for her to be so. Granted, the hateability of the main character is mitigated slightly as we learn more about her, but in the end it’s quite difficult to say if she’s actually grown. Perhaps my enjoyment comes mostly from the beautiful, highly descriptive writing. Admittedly, I found the constant, excessive reliance on pop culture references annoying, but at the very least the rest of the description was usually good enough to make up for what one might not catch in terms of references. The books pacing was alright, minus some parts that dragged a bit (such as the funeral part of the book.) I like the way this author tells a unique story with unique characters, sprinkling in dark humor to the many heavy themes.

I think this book caught me at the right time. My current reality is that I’m burnt out and jaded, a teeny bit too judgmental, eternally annoyed with most things, and more and more frustrated with the world around me and with myself every day. I’m perturbed by the development of this bitterness within me. As I read the book, much as I thought the main character was cruel and superficial, I related to her pain and her desires. I want to rot in my depression and sleep a year away. Obviously, I don’t have the endless money and ressources nor the true will to do that, but the appeal is there. And, if anything, I feel the ending shows us both how much and how little the character changed. She sees beauty in the world now,

but selfishly finds artistic courage in the tragic death of her friend. Also, not gonna lie, I saw the 9/11 shit coming!!!

There is no grief nor any accountability. She’s stripped of the superficial part of her superficiality, but inside there’s still vanity. Each part of her world revolves around her, even if now, she appreciates it a bit more. I want to grow, to rest and to process, to see beauty in the everyday and not get caught up in symbolic gestures or appearances or useless activities, but there are pitfalls along that journey. I relate to the endeavor but I’d like to swerve away from its end, this end. Perhaps this book hit me so hard because I was able to see bits of my current self in someone I did not like. The cycle of trauma likes to sneak up on us all in new forms, I suppose, et cetera.

Anyways, one thing I do find ironic is that this novel has become part of an aesthetic associated with modern “weird” readers, and the existence of such an aesthetic, in my opinion, really strips art of its uniqueness, all to fit into one’s personal style. In other words, it’s  superficial and meaningless, vain, even. I find that pretty funny. I’m being pretentious. Welp, there’s my cynical bitterness. I think it does have a point sometimes, though. Aesthetics can be fun but… oh, the irony.

I’ll stop my rambly introspection. Give My Year of Rest and Relaxation a read; be aware though, to many audiences it’ll be quite boring and unappealing (and understandably so.) I (think) that I loved it though. 

Unlikable characters while not being interesting or compelling. 

I need to reflect on this more to give a proper review, but I really enjoyed it. This is my second Moshfegh novel and I'm once again struck by how she crafts these characters who you love and hate and root for and want to slap all at the same time. They're simultaneously realistic and ridiculous. I guess that speaks to the satirical nature of this story. Idk there was something profoundly relatable about the core of this story.