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Ottessa Moshfegh: My year of rest and relaxation (2018, Penguin)

It's early 2000 on New York City's Upper East Side, and the alienation of Moshfegh's …

DEFINITELY Overhyped

Listen. I like it. It's weird, it's melancholy, it's a slow-paced drama about an unlikable, fairly privileged character coping with a mental-health crisis in the weirdest way possible so of course I finished it. But do I love it? No. No I do not.

It's a story that lacked any teeth: the character is (predictably considering the premise) extremely passive and that lends itself to the vague, moody, emptiness of the plot that concludes in a rather unsatisfying anti-climax.