I'll admit, as tired as the "spoiled rich girl who's actually miserable" trope is- I'll eat it up every time. Not because I believe women in this blessed position deserve more sympathy, but because I think it highlights that the human experience is brutal, but a lucky few can afford to sleep the pain away. When characters such as this nameless protagonist are written in such a way that we can mock how utterly unrealistic their journeys of healing and self-discovery are, it demonstrates that we should strive to create a world where anyone can afford to escape for a short while.

Fine, we can argue the pointlessness of the plot, the suddenness of the protagonist's redemption arc, and the awkward 9/11 messaging, but this is a beautifully written novel, which I absolutely needed during my own "year of rest."

Okay, yes, the main character is insufferable. That's the point- she is expected to be appealing based on her physical descriptors alone. Pretty, blonde, rich, and privileged in just about every sense. But she's not. She's this nihilistic, apathetic, destructive personality who refuses to change in spite of these factors. I don't think it's lost on Moshfegh that this character's socio-economic status is the reason she can lock herself up in a drug-induced haze. I don't think it's lost on the character, either. She embarks on "sleeping the year away" to come out a completely new person, but at the end of the novel, she chooses to keep her name, inheritance and apartment, because she knows that giving all of that up would make life much worse than before. 

Overall, Moshfegh's descriptions are disgustingly visceral. With a novel that has little to show for plot, it's still easy to get lost in the world of Y2K New York City's Upper West Side. It felt hyper-realistic to the point of being uncanny- almost like a bad dream. 

Again, if I were not experiencing a sense of emotional turmoil while reading this novel, I probably would have put it down after the first few chapters. However, as much as I shouldn't have, I saw myself in this protagonist. Yes, I can't sleep away a year of my life, but if I'm going through it without much care, am I really living? I believe most of us can resonate with some aspect of the main character's journey, because Moshfegh ventures so deep into this character's head.

In fairness, pretty much every character is fatally flawed. Or, in some cases, straight-up evil. Trevor is a misogynist rapist, Reva is a troubled woman who mistakes codependency and jealous obsession with love, and her parents clearly passed on tremendous trauma. I mean, I guess I would vibe with Ping Xi if he wasn't an animal abuser, or Dr. Tuttle if she wasn't a quasi drug dealer. You can find a way to empathize with most of them anyway. They all feel refreshingly human. 

The main theme of living life "fully awake" is expressed through an epiphany the main character experiences following her return from hibernation, which basically just boils down to "life-really-isn't-so-bad-after-all." Oh, and witnessing of her only friend jumping from the top floor of the World Trade Centre on 9/11 makes her grateful for her aliveness, too. It's a tad shallow and predictable, but it gets across the message of the beauty of existence pretty well. I'd say Moshfegh is just as effective at evoking feelings of peace and serenity as she is at making you feel grimy and  depressed.