Ottessa Moshfegh

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

"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

Nicole Hart

I thought that if I did normal things—held down a job, for example—I could starve off the part of me that hated everything. If I had been a man, I may have turned to a life of crime.

taylor miles hopkins

There she is, a human being, diving into the unknown, and she is wide awake

Did they know that glory was mundane? Did they wish they'd crushed those withered grapes between their fingers and spent their days walking through fields of grass or being in love or confessing their delusions to a priest or starving like the hungry souls they were, begging for alms in the city square with some honesty for once? Maybe they’d lived wrongly. Their greatness may have poisoned them. Did they wonder about things like that? Maybe they couldn’t sleep at night. Were they plagued by nightmares? Maybe they understood, in fact, that beauty and meaning had nothing to do with one another. Maybe they lived as real artists knowing all along that there were no pearly gates. Neither creation nor sacrifice could lead a person to heaven.

Honey locusts and ginkgos aflare in yellows. What was cowardly about the color yellow? Nothing.

𝓒.

Reva often spoke about “settling down.” That sounded like death to me.

 ★

“I did crave attention, but I refused to humiliate myself by asking for it. I’d be punished if I showed signs of suffering, I knew. So I was good. I did all the right things. I rebelled in silent ways, with my thoughts.”

Sarah Campbell

I breathed and walked and sat on a bench and watched a bee circle the heads of a flock of passing teenagers. There was majesty and grace in the pace of the swaying branches of the willows. There was kindness. Pain is not the only touchstone for growth, I said to myself. My sleep had worked. I was soft and calm and felt things. This was good. This was my life now. I could survive without the house. I understood that it would soon be someone else's store of memories and that was beautiful. I could move on.

Jas 🐸

Rejection, I have found, can be the only antidote to delusion.

I did crave attention, but I refused to humiliate myself by asking for it. I'd be punished if I showed signs of suffering, I knew. So I was good.

 Think of your beauty Achilles' heel. Youre too much on the surface. I don't say that offensively. But it's the truth. It's hard to look past what you look like.”

Lindy

and I remembered watching her "put her face on," as she called it, and wondering if one day I'd be like her, a beautiful fish in a man-made pool, circling and circling, surviving the tedium only because my memory can contain only what is imprinted on the last few minutes of my life, constantly forgetting my thoughts. 

Reva was like the pills I took. They turned everything, even hatred, even love, into fluff I could bat away. And that was exactly what I wanted

my emotions passing like headlights that shine softly through a window, sweep past me, illuminate something vaguely familiar, then fade and leave me in the dark again. 

The lightheartedness in that wish struck me, and for a moment I felt joyful, and then I felt completely exhausted. 

I wanted to hold on to the house the way you'd hold on to a love letter. It was proof that I had not always been completely alone in this world. But I think I was also holding on to the loss, to the emptiness of the house itself, as though to affirm that it was better to be alone than to be stuck with people who were supposed to love you, yet couldn't. 

Life was fragile and fleeting and one had to be cautious, sure, but I would risk death if it meant I could sleep all day and become a whole new person. 

tara  (she/her)

An "alternative" to the mainstream frat boys and premed straight and narrow guys, these scholarly, charmless, intellectual brats dominated the more creative departments. As an art history major, I couldn't escape them. "Dudes"  reading Nietzsche on the subway, reading Proust, reading David Foster Wallace, jotting down their brilliant thoughts into a black Moleskine pocket notebook. Beer bellies and skinny legs, zip-up hoodies, navy blue peacoats or army green parkas, New Balance sneakers, knit hats, canvas tote bags, small hands, hairy knuckles, maybe a deer head tattoos across a flabby bicep. They rolled their own cigarettes, didn't brush their teeth enough, spent a hundred dollars a week on coffee. 

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.

debbie <3

Everyone I knew at school hated me because I was so pretty.

moira

…that it was better to be alone than to be stuck with people who were supposed to love you, yet couldn’t

I wanted to hold on to the house the way you'd hold on to a love letter. It was proof that I had not always been completely alone in this world.

Life was fragile and fleeting and one had to be cautious, sure, but I would risk death if it meant I could sleep all day and become a whole new person.

llikaditoo 

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 was lucky to have my dead parents' money, I knew, but that was also depressing.

juana de arco si estuviera cronicamente online

“Sleep felt productive. Something was getting sorted out. I knew in my heart—this was, perhaps, the only thing my heart knew back then—that when I’d slept enough, I’d be okay. I’d be renewed, reborn. I would be a whole new person, every one of my cells regenerated enough times that the old cells were just distant, foggy memories. My past life would be but a dream, and I could start over without regrets, bolstered by the bliss and serenity that I would have accumulated in my year of rest and relaxation.”

probably read this at the wrong time bc i learned nothing

margo

ao mesmo tempo que eu admiro a habilidade da autora em me prender na  história onde nada acontece, eu também esperava mais. 

é uma leitura interessante, e tem uma infinidade de referências que eu gostaria de ter entendido mais a fundo apesar de estar longe de ser uma herdeira nova iorquina viciada em pílulas e à beira de um colapso. 

estar dentro da consciência da personagem me fez, sem querer, ter uma certa simpatia por ela. mesmo achando que a maioria dos problemas dela eram auto infligidos, obviamente, dá pra deslumbrar um pouco da mentalidade dela e sentir as feridas que ela, apesar de ter “tudo”, não conseguiu abafar. até pq nenhuma pessoa sã passa um ano se auto medicando pra dormir e se desligar da experiência humana. 

no final, ela era tanto humana quanto era fútil.  

ao mesmo tempo que eu admiro a habilidade da autora em me prender na  história onde nada acontece, eu também esperava mais. 

é uma leitura interessante, e tem uma infinidade de referências que eu gostaria de ter entendido mais a fundo apesar de estar longe de ser uma herdeira nova iorquina viciada em pílulas e à beira de um colapso. 

estar dentro da consciência da personagem me fez, sem querer, ter uma certa simpatia por ela. mesmo achando que a maioria dos problemas dela eram auto infligidos, obviamente, dá pra deslumbrar um pouco da mentalidade dela e sentir as feridas que ela, apesar de ter “tudo”, não conseguiu abafar. até pq nenhuma pessoa sã passa um ano se auto medicando pra dormir e se desligar da experiência humana. 

no final, ela era tanto humana quanto era fútil.  

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.

Was a hit second time around, years later lol. I also wish I could sleep for a year. 

Kyra Cracchiola

i never wanted to read this. it is a “hot girl” book. i hate that term. but i loved this. however, do not associate me with the “hot” or “it” girls

nattie

Bulan

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".

This is my fave book ever I don't care if its all about sad privilege white girl. It oddly comforts me and I relate to it so much and makes me feel like I am not alone in this mundane boring life. 

Sheila Mae Moradas

this was a pretty interesting read for someone who also wants her life to magically become better but doesn’t know how or where to start. a main character that is hard to connect to, but still offers some relatable inner thoughts (same as reva). the ending left me a bit shook.

Danniella

I read this in one sitting, and it felt like one long fever dream. I just put it down, and I still feel like I’m in it. The whole book engages in heavy topics, so I would not recommend reading this unless you’re in a really great place. However little the setting changes, the book recounts a massive shift that you really have to read to feel in its entirety. The internal dialogue is so funny and bizarre and completely untethered from reality, constructs, and sanity. I have absolutely no idea how this author came up with any of it, but I am glad she did. 

Katie Avila

it was a really good book to start my year with

Vasilisa

A young woman becomes obsessed with sleeping away a year of her life in order to be born anew. This is my third foray into Moshfegh’s famously unreliable and unlikeable narrators, and I’m so pleased to see that I can enjoy living inside her characters thoughts after being supremely disappointed by Death in her Hands. This novel also features a somewhat stream-of-consciousness style inner world of a mostly idle character. Where Death in her Hands revealed extreme anxiety, My Year of Rest and Relaxation seems more about the unnamed main character’s narcissism and cruelty. Despite very little of the book being spent outside of her apartment, this novel kept me riveted. Funny timing for reading this book while trying to heal from burnout, so just premise of sleeping for a year (or more!) is extremely interesting. I did call the plot events at the end, but was surprised that Moshfegh went relatively easy on our protagonist. All for the best, so I can remain jealous of this method of self progression. Good thing infermiterol is made up ;)

constance

interesting character study, but that’s about it. the only thing i found worth reading was the relationship between the narrator and reva. extremely slow at the beginning, but it picks up towards the middle. it wasn’t very funny, i only laughed twice. the psychiatrist character and the whoopi goldberg tangents were especially unfunny. eye-roll worthy ending.

Emilia Noel

tall blonde pretty pretentious, 4 words to describe. the main character. i do find her an interesting exhibit to watch and channel, but i find the book helps her hide the way she acts around other people , it makes her seem more detached than she actually seems to be

Zaya Purev

This book made me deeply uncomfortable, yet I couldn't stop reading.

It was written very accurately to the emotional state of someone who was filled with dreariness and a desire to sleep away her grief.

What an interesting take on loss and sadness.

Still not my favorite, but it was interesting.

This book made me deeply uncomfortable, yet I couldn't stop reading.
It was written very accurately to the emotional state of someone who was filled with dreariness and a desire to sleep away her grief.
What an interesting take on loss and sadness.
Still not my favorite, but it was interesting.

Khoa Dang

It was a very honest perception of depression and the effects it has on the mindset you have about yourself and everyone else around you. 

Brandi

needed a year of rest and relaxation after reading this book. rly disliked it, felt like an entirely squandered book which was a shame considering the interesting premise, draggy etcetera 

tanya 

As someone who’s dream literally used to be to sleep for a year (but without the means to) it was really interesting to read how selfish depression can make you and the mental hoops you must jump through to justify/ignore your bad behavior on a spiritual level…

Also enjoyed the character(s) journey through grief. Both insightful and affirming.

As someone who’s dream literally used to be to sleep for a year (but without the means to) it was really interesting to read how selfish depression can make you and the mental hoops you must jump through to justify/ignore your bad behavior on a spiritual level…

Also enjoyed the character(s) journey through grief. Both insightful and affirming.

Escrito hermoso, no me gustó tanto como pensé 

there she is, a human being, diving into the unknown, and she is wide awake.

sehr, sehr unterhaltsam und bringt einen gleichzeitig zum Nachdenken über den Sinn des Lebens & wie man über ihn nachdenkt, wenn Karriere und Reichtum keine Rolle spielen!

Mareike

The unnamed narrator presents as a thoroughly unlikeable character for most of the story, yet in her rare sober moments, the narrator's poignant recount of her tumultuous upbringing give insight into her character and the cycles of abuse she's been trapped in. 

Moshfegh can list things! I loved the way she was so flippant about commas. Who needs them! Great book, short sentences, grimy feeling.

My year of rest and relaxation

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