Name: My Year of Rest and Relaxation
Rating: 3.611607761607761 (1443 reviews)
ISBN: 9780525522133

Ottessa Moshfegh

"Our narrator should be happy, shouldn't she? She's young, thin, pretty, a recent Columbia graduate, works an easy job at a hip art gallery, lives in an apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan paid for, like the rest of her needs, by her inheritance. But there is a hole in her heart, and it isn't just the loss of her parents, or the way her Wall Street boyfriend treats her, or her sadomasochistic relationship with her best friend, Reva. It's the year 2000 in a city aglitter with wealth and possibility, what could be so terribly wrong?" -- from publisher's description.

My Year of Rest and Relaxation

money can’t buy happiness but it can buy you pills and a year to sleep which could almost be the same thing

nina

FROM THE MAN BOOKER-SHORTLISTED AUTHOR OF EILEEN THE NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER 'Savage, funny, frequently on the verge of teetering into lunacy... My Year of Rest and Relaxationis a non-negotiable in your holiday carry-on this summer' Vogue It's the year 2000 in a city aglitter with wealth and possibility; what could be so terribly wrong? Our narrator has many of the advantages of life- Young, thin, pretty, a recent Columbia graduate, she lives in an apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan paid for, like everything else, by her inheritance. But there is a vacuum at the heart of things, and it isn't just the loss of her parents in college, or the way her Wall Street boyfriend treats her, or her sadomasochistic relationship with her alleged best friend. Blackly funny, both merciless and compassionate - dangling its legs over the ledge of 9/11 - My Year of Rest and Relaxationis a showcase for the gifts of one of America's major young writers.

i really enjoyed this book. very privileged people with easy lives are often depressed and listless because there's only so many times that material things can be entertaining to you when your whole life has been full of things being handed to you for no effort. the protagonist isn't particularly likeable but as more of her life is talked about you can really sort of understand why she is the way she is and how she ended up in this plight in the first place. an interesting read about the experience of being passively suicidal; not enthused enough to live but not quite ready to die

sunny

ikkychan

How far would you go to escape the unbearable weight of existence? If you are too exhausted to keep living but too wary of the grotesque imagery of suicide, what other choice is left? In My Year of Rest and Relaxation, Ottessa Moshfegh explores one woman’s journey of living in a sedated consciousness, offering a glimpse into a lifestyle of escapism born out of privilege—passive income, a suitable residence, and the freedom to withdraw from the world entirely. It follows an unnamed narrator, a young woman adrift in the excesses of early 2000s New York, who decides to withdraw from the world entirely by sedating herself into a year-long hibernation. Her decision is born out of a profound dissatisfaction with life—grief over her parents’ deaths, disillusionment with the art world, and the emptiness of her relationships with her abusive boyfriend, Trevor, and her insecure, clingy friend, Reva. Feeling utterly exhausted, the unnamed narrator is compelled to take a drastic course of action—one that is extreme yet something she has been grappling with for a long time. In a final, desperate attempt to escape her reality, she plunges herself into a sea of intricate concoctions of barbiturates and antidepressants, seeking to achieve her long-held dream of endless sleep during her self-imposed “year of rest and relaxation.” The story presents a highly contradictory portrayal of an individual who simultaneously harnesses and is victimized by her own choices. The narrator’s actions are both a rebellion against her circumstances and a surrender to them, as she seeks control through self-destruction. This duality is central to her character, as she oscillates between moments of calculated decision-making and complete emotional detachment. Her contradictory behavior is most apparent in her relationship with Reva, a dynamic that is deeply complex, marked by a mix of intimacy, resentment, and imbalance. The narrator holds a position of power in the relationship, both socially and emotionally. She comes from a place of privilege—financially stable, physically attractive, and emotionally detached—while Reva is portrayed as insecure, needy, and constantly seeking validation. This imbalance creates a dynamic where the narrator often condescends to Reva, mocking her insecurities and materialism. For example, the narrator describes Reva’s obsession with body image and brand names with disdain, highlighting her own effortless beauty and lack of concern for such trivialities: “Reva was a slave to vanity and status... It made it hard for me to respect her intelligence.” This contrast underscores the narrator’s sense of superiority, which she uses to distance herself from Reva’s perceived weaknesses. Despite their long history, the friendship feels transactional and conditional. The narrator tolerates Reva’s presence because it serves as a distraction or a mirror for her own superiority, while Reva clings to the narrator for validation and a sense of belonging. Their interactions are often superficial, with the narrator rarely offering genuine emotional support. For instance, when Reva grieves her mother’s death, the narrator remains emotionally distant, offering little comfort beyond practical gestures like buying coffee: “I got up and went to the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet... I didn’t want to have to make it through Christmas with the lingering stink of Reva’s sadness.” This emotional detachment highlights the narrator’s inability—or unwillingness—to engage with Reva’s pain on a deeper level. Reva’s jealousy of the narrator is a recurring theme, but the narrator also harbors resentment toward Reva, albeit in a more subtle way. She mocks Reva’s neediness and conformity, yet she also seems to rely on Reva’s presence to affirm her own sense of superiority. Reva’s catchphrase, “No fair,” reflects her envy of the narrator’s advantages, while the narrator’s dismissive attitude toward Reva’s struggles underscores her own emotional detachment. For example, when Reva complains about her boss and her affair, the narrator responds with robotic indifference: “What a dick,” I said robotically. This exchange reveals the narrator’s lack of empathy, as well as her tendency to reduce Reva’s emotional turmoil to trivialities. The narrator’s behavior toward Reva is indeed contradictory, and this tension reveals a lot about her character and the nature of their relationship. The narrator frequently undermines Reva’s fixation on body image, materialism, and social status, yet she simultaneously acknowledges her own superiority in these areas. This contradiction highlights the narrator’s internal conflict: she disdains Reva’s insecurities but takes pride in the very qualities that make her superior to Reva. For example, the narrator mocks Reva’s obsession with designer knockoffs and her desire to “fit in,” yet she casually mentions her own effortless beauty and financial stability, which Reva envies: “I was hot shit. People were always telling me I looked like Amber Valletta.” This duality reflects the narrator’s struggle to reconcile her disdain for superficiality with her own reliance on privilege and appearance. As this is a relationship that relies on superficiality to stay afloat and is marked by a clear power imbalance, it is easily nullified and dissolved once the financial circumstances of one of the parties change. Reva, who achieves newfound financial independence and professional success through her promotion to a prestigious office in the Twin Towers, marks a turning point in her life. She is no longer the insecure, needy friend who clings to the narrator for validation. Instead, she exudes a newfound confidence and self-assurance, which is evident in her dismissive treatment of the narrator. This is apparent in her curt and detached response to the narrator’s call: “‘I’m at the gym,’ she said. ‘Can we talk later?’” This contrasts sharply with her earlier behavior, where she would have eagerly sought out the narrator’s attention and validation. Her focus on her career and her dismissive attitude toward the narrator suggest that she no longer feels the need to rely on their friendship for emotional support or social status. Previously, the narrator held the upper hand in the relationship, using her privilege, beauty, and emotional detachment to maintain control over Reva. However, Reva’s professional success and financial independence have leveled the playing field, if not tipped it in her favor. This shift is evident in the way Reva interacts with the narrator during their final meeting. Reva’s demeanor is confident and self-assured as she rattles on about her new position and her boss, describing him as a “CIA tool.” Her use of technical jargon and her emphasis on her professional achievements (“Innovative solutions,” “Anatomy of workplace violence,” “Strong objectives”) reflect her growing sense of self-worth and independence. The narrator, on the other hand, seems almost passive in this interaction, observing Reva with a mix of admiration and detachment. She notes Reva’s beauty and complexity but does not assert her usual dominance or condescension: “She was beautiful, with all her nerves and all her complicated, circuitous feelings and contradictions and fears.” Reva’s dismissive treatment of the narrator suggests that she no longer feels as needy or dependent on their friendship. This emotional distance is evident in several ways. Reva’s decision to read aloud a story from The New Yorker during their meeting feels performative and detached, as if she is filling the silence rather than engaging in genuine conversation. The narrator observes this, noting that Reva is “just trying to fill the air, take up the time until she could go and leave me forever.” Reva’s response to the narrator’s declaration of love (“I love you, too”) is polite but lacks the emotional depth and vulnerability that characterized their earlier interactions. This suggests that Reva has moved on emotionally, even if she maintains a superficial connection to the narrator. The narrator’s reaction to Reva’s transformation reveals her own vulnerability and sense of loss. While she prides herself on her emotional detachment, she is clearly affected by Reva’s newfound independence and the growing distance between them. The narrator’s observation that “this would be the last time I’d see her in person” underscores her awareness that their relationship has reached its end. This realization is tinged with sadness, as the narrator acknowledges Reva’s beauty and complexity:“She was beautiful, with all her nerves and all her complicated, circuitous feelings and contradictions and fears.” The narrator’s attempt to hold on to Reva, as seen in her tug-of-war over the magazine, reflects her reluctance to let go of their friendship, even as she recognizes its transactional and conditional nature. The final lines of the passage—“Then I called Reva. She answered on the fourth ring, panting and tense. ‘I’m at the gym,’ she said. ‘Can we talk later?’ We never did.”—symbolize the definitive end of their relationship. Reva’s dismissive response and the narrator’s failure to reconnect highlight the irreparable shift in their dynamic. Reva’s newfound independence and self-assurance have rendered the narrator’s dominance obsolete, leaving their friendship to fade into memory. Reva’s promotion and financial independence have indeed tipped the balance of power in their relationship. No longer the needy, insecure friend who relied on the narrator for validation, Reva has become more self-assured and emotionally distant. This shift is evident in her dismissive treatment of the narrator and her focus on her own life and career. The narrator, meanwhile, is left to grapple with the loss of their friendship and the realization that she can no longer exert the same control over Reva. This passage marks the end of their relationship, as Reva moves on and the narrator is left to confront her own emotional detachment and existential crisis. This is exactly why the ending is so ironic. Instead of serving as an empowering portrayal of how someone can escape a toxic and imbalanced relationship with dignity, Reva is killed when the Twin Towers succumb to the plane attack. The narrator’s final recollection of a woman’s image from the footage of the harrowing event reflects a detached undertone, as if she accepts Reva’s tragic death with ease and even a sense of romanticization, which conceals a sinister message beneath its placidity: “Each time I see the woman leap off the Seventy-eighth floor of the North Tower—one high-heeled shoe slipping off and hovering up over her, the other stuck on her foot as though it were too small, her blouse untucked, hair flailing, limbs stiff as she plummets down, one arm raised, like a dive into a summer lake—I am overcome by awe, not because she looks like Reva, and I think it’s her, almost exactly her, and not because Reva and I had been friends, or because I’ll never see her again, but because she is beautiful.” This passage underscores the narrator’s emotional detachment, as she reduces Reva’s tragic death to an aesthetic spectacle, devoid of genuine grief or remorse. Far from being empowering, this moment highlights the narrator’s inability to confront the emotional weight of Reva’s death, instead romanticizing it as a beautiful, almost cinematic event. If the narrator were oblivious to her privilege, like so many wealthy individuals, her behavior might be easier to talk about, albeit it is still quite problematic and harmful. However, she is acutely aware of her advantages, as evidenced by her conversation with Ping Xi: “‘I was born into privilege,’ I told Ping Xi. ‘I am not going to squander that. I’m not a moron.’” This self-awareness makes her actions even more troubling, as she knowingly leverages her privilege to maintain control over Reva, exacerbating her insecurities and keeping her tethered to their imbalanced dynamic. Even after completing her year of rest and relaxation, the narrator’s supposed transformation rings hollow. While she presents herself as someone who has gained a more accepting view of the world, her underlying selfishness and detachment remain unchanged. This is evident in her conditional approach to life: “If, when I woke up in June, life still wasn’t worth the trouble, I would end it. I would jump. This was the deal I made.” Her willingness to hold her own life hostage reveals a deeply self-centered worldview, one that prioritizes her own comfort and control over genuine growth or accountability. By choosing to do nothing, she is still actively causing harm for the people around her. The narrator’s self-medication and year of isolation are ultimately a form of escapism, allowing her to avoid confronting the harm she has caused, particularly to Reva. Instead of taking responsibility for her role in perpetuating their toxic dynamic, the narrator dismisses Reva’s struggles and reduces her to a mere accessory in her own narrative. This is most evident in the way she gives away her clothes and jewelry to Reva, framing it as an act of generosity while simultaneously reinforcing Reva’s dependence on her: “Her greed would unburden me of my own vanity.” This transactional gesture underscores the narrator’s inability to see Reva as anything more than a reflection of her own needs and insecurities. The tragedy of Reva’s death further absolves the narrator of any responsibility, as it removes the possibility of reconciliation or accountability. Instead of being forced to confront the consequences of her actions, the narrator is given an easy way out, with Reva’s sacrifice serving as a convenient endpoint to their relationship. Even in death, Reva is treated as an accessory, her life and struggles reduced to a fleeting image of beauty in the narrator’s detached recollection. This final act of erasure underscores the narrator’s inability to truly change or grow, as she remains trapped in her own self-centered worldview, unable to see beyond her own desires and insecurities. I could go on and on about the origin of the narrator’s apathy and depressive stance toward life, which most likely stems from the parental burnout her parents experienced, creating an unsupportive and dissociative familial environment that proves deeply detrimental to her psyche. The narrator’s unfulfilling childhood and formative years seem to have set the stage for her emotional detachment and self-destructive tendencies. Or about how this is evident in her perpetual, toxic cycle of an on-again, off-again relationship with Trevor, who abuses her and constantly disregards her needs—a dynamic that mirrors her treatment of Reva, albeit without the sexual component. Trevor’s dismissiveness and cruelty reflect the same patterns of control and neglect that the narrator later inflicts on Reva, suggesting a cycle of harm that perpetuates itself through her relationships, sans the sexual exchange. Or about how her sleepwalking shows her innate desire to take a completely opposite direction of her initial choices, reflecting an acute cognitive dissonance between her conscious action and mental direction. But because I’m a woman, and women’s friendships and relationships are of great interest to me, I find myself drawn to the dynamics between the narrator and Reva more. Their relationship, fraught with imbalance and manipulation, feels like a microcosm of the ways women can hurt each other, often under the guise of friendship. The narrator’s treatment of Reva—her condescension, her exploitation of Reva’s insecurities, and her refusal to offer genuine emotional support—reveals a darker side of female relationships, one that is rarely explored with such unflinching honesty. It’s a dynamic that feels both familiar and unsettling, as it exposes the ways in which power and privilege can distort even the closest bonds. That said, dissecting this relationship has sapped a huge chunk of my energy. Reading this book has forced me to confront not only the narrator’s flaws but also my own reflections on friendship, power, and emotional labor. In a way, it has compelled me to enter my own year of rest and relaxation, as I grapple with the weight of these themes and their implications for my own life and relationships.

It's early 2000 on New York City's Upper East Side, and the alienation of Moshfegh's unnamed young protagonist from others is nearly complete when she initiates her yearlong siesta, during which time she experiences limited personal interactions. Her parents have died; her relationships with her bulimic best friend Reva, an ex-boyfriend, and her drug-pushing psychiatrist are unwholesome. As her pill-popping intensifies, so does her isolation and determination to leave behind the world's travails. She is also beset by dangerous blackouts induced by a powerful medication.

My year of rest and relaxation

leaf

The brutal honesty of this book is WILD, so refreshing. Relatable and talks about things nobody dares to. It didn’t change my life but I had fun.

Lina Anzola

kitkat

Jennifer

This book was...interesting. I didn’t realize this wasn’t a real memoir until 20% way through. Also, Trevor is the worst. This book is about grief? Death? Friendship? Loneliness? But ends with 9/11? I have no idea what to say about this. I really wanted to find out what happened at the end but I am struggling to describe it. It’s not a bad book but I don’t know who I would recommend this to or why.

Our narrator should be happy, shouldn't she? She's young, thin, pretty, a recent Columbia graduate, works an easy job at a hip art gallery, lives in an apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan paid for, like the rest of her needs, by her inheritance. But there is a dark and vacuous hole in her heart, and it isn't just the loss of her parents, or the way her Wall Street boyfriend treats her, or her sadomasochistic relationship with her best friend, Reva. It's the year 2000 in a city aglitter with wealth and possibility; what could be so terribly wrong?

My Year of Rest and Relaxation is a powerful answer to that question. Through the story of a year spent under the influence of a truly mad combination of drugs designed to heal our heroine from her alienation from this world, Moshfegh shows us how reasonable, even necessary, alienation can be. Both tender and blackly funny, merciless and compassionate, it is a showcase for the gifts of one of our major writers working at the height of her powers.

Darkly funny and so sharp it could cut glass

Tarik

Nadine MacDonald

YES ugh. this book is a new favourite. I at first wondered if I was supposed to pity the main character as the reader…. but by the end I aspired to be this woman. She did what she wanted to and did it without shame despite what’s socially acceptable. And the last line of the book? beautiful. loved it so much

It felt like being inside someone else’s fucked up mind instead of my own for a while. And it was beautiful. 

Brittnee Coffmen

FROM THE MAN BOOKER-SHORTLISTED AUTHOR OF EILEEN THE NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER 'Savage, funny, frequently on the verge of teetering into lunacy... My Year of Rest and Relaxation is a non-negotiable in your holiday carry-on this summer' Vogue It’s the year 2000 in a city aglitter with wealth and possibility; what could be so terribly wrong? Our narrator has many of the advantages of life: Young, thin, pretty, a recent Columbia graduate, she lives in an apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan paid for, like everything else, by her inheritance. But there is a vacuum at the heart of things, and it isn’t just the loss of her parents in college, or the way her Wall Street boyfriend treats her, or her sadomasochistic relationship with her alleged best friend. Blackly funny, both merciless and compassionate – dangling its legs over the ledge of 9/11 – My Year of Rest and Relaxation is a showcase for the gifts of one of America’s major young writers.

i really enjoyed the 2nd half of this book more than the first. i have a deep connection to the way the writer speaks about art especially. the ending was captivating and just something about this it was just what i needed to read at this time in my life.

Danielle Naurayan

Isabella

if a dream (both the good and the bad)came to me, this is the book.

wdds.

probably read this at the wrong time bc i learned nothing

margo

A very funny, cynical character study of our unnamed narrator (who I'll call MC) as she attempts the implausible: a full year of sleeping to emerge a changed and healthier woman.

Ottessa Moshfegh is pretty hilarious, creating a non-killer that still gives me heavy Patrick Bateman vibes. MC lacks the self-doubt Patrick has, but she matches his delusions and cynicism. Her depression is shoved down your throat but you don't care to see her cured of it -- it's going to be one of those kinds of rides.

Right from the get-go, it's obvious MC won't be learning anything of substance on this journey, "successful" or not. She's vain, cruel, oblivious, and shortsighted. Emptysighted, really, she has no goal other than to sleep; and what is that, even? How can a main character have that "ambition"? Well, Moshfegh makes a fun trip out of MC's attempts to zero thanks to the colorful cast and vivid trips down memory lane.

I liked MC's dry humor, Dr. Tuttle's ADHD antics and thoughts, and Reva's horrible attempts at pity parties. Their friendship is a painful one that's seemingly necessary for both women, and I really liked their miserable banter. I also really liked the twist of what Infermiterol begins to do to MC; finally, a bit of action that isn't internalized or a conversation on the couch.

I was disappointed with where things ended. If you're American, you already know based on the timeline and locations mentioned what will end up happening to at least one character; honestly, I don't think that matters all too much, either. MC's emotional reaction to the event was bizarre (and somewhat understandable) but hardly fitting of a finishing point. Why tie the ending to it? That lost me.

I was sad to see Trevor only show up almost entirely in flashbacks, and when he does appear, it's for about 1 page. Ping Xi seems somewhat interesting and it's sad that most of his interactions happen off-page.

I see a lot of wasted potential with this book, but it's still really funny and a great display of talent worthy of the read. I think Moshfegh created a world that's slightly 

 ambitious for a character whose goal is to do nothing, which is pretty impressive considering how lean things are. Also, Infermiterol episodes could have appeared slightly sooner from a pacing perspective. It's a fast read, thankfully.

I recommend "My Year of Rest and Relaxation".

Evan

A very funny, cynical character study of our unnamed narrator (who I'll call MC) as she attempts the implausible: a full year of sleeping to emerge a changed and healthier woman.

  

Ottessa Moshfegh is pretty hilarious, creating a non-killer that still gives me heavy Patrick Bateman vibes. MC lacks the self-doubt Patrick has, but she matches his delusions and cynicism. Her depression is shoved down your throat but you don't care to see her cured of it -- it's going to be one of those kinds of rides.

Right from the get-go, it's obvious MC won't be learning anything of substance on this journey, "successful" or not. She's vain, cruel, oblivious, and shortsighted. Emptysighted, really, she has no goal other than to sleep; and what is that, even? How can a main character have that "ambition"? Well, Moshfegh makes a fun trip out of MC's attempts to zero thanks to the colorful cast and vivid trips down memory lane.

  

I liked MC's dry humor, Dr. Tuttle's ADHD antics and thoughts, and Reva's horrible attempts at pity parties. Their friendship is a painful one that's seemingly necessary for both women, and I really liked their miserable banter. I also really liked the twist of what Infermiterol begins to do to MC; finally, a bit of action that isn't internalized or a conversation on the couch.

  

I was disappointed with where things ended. If you're American, you already know based on the timeline and locations mentioned what will end up happening to at least one character; honestly, I don't think that matters all too much, either. MC's emotional reaction to the event was bizarre (and somewhat understandable) but hardly fitting of a finishing point. Why tie the ending to it? That lost me.

I was sad to see Trevor only show up almost entirely in flashbacks, and when he does appear, it's for about 1 page. Ping Xi seems somewhat interesting and it's sad that most of his interactions happen off-page.

  

I see a lot of wasted potential with this book, but it's still really funny and a great display of talent worthy of the read. I think Moshfegh created a world that's slightly too ambitious for a character whose goal is to do nothing, which is pretty impressive considering how lean things are. Also, Infermiterol episodes could have appeared slightly sooner from a pacing perspective. It's a fast read, thankfully.

  

I recommend "My Year of Rest and Relaxation".

My Year of Rest and Relaxation

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