My Year of Rest and Relaxation

Who knew a book about sleeping could be so funny and engaging?

As someone who constantly wants and needs more rest, I related to the protagonist’s hunch that a year of (almost uninterrupted) sleep would change her life. And it does, though not at all in the way she expects.

Moshfegh writes about trips to the local bodega and the edgy conceptual art scene in such a brilliant way that the book will (perhaps, unfortunately!) keep you up late.

Of all the fascinating things about this book’s unnamed character whose goal is to mix prescription drugs in order to sleep through the year, what interested me most was her relationship with her college friend, Reva. What do we call a “friendship” that persists just because it’s our only one?

I’ve seen toxic attachments explored in sexual relationships and families before, but not friendships, which we tend to think of as less complicated, easier to break off. The main character almost never leaves her apartment, but she is relentlessly visited by the needy Reva, who she barely tolerates. Reva is… show more.

I’m a sucker for an “unlikeable” narrator and was especially struck by the hazy, angry one we get in this book.

She’s sleeping away a year of her life with the help of an endless list of questionable pharmaceuticals. Her friendship with Reva, her former college roommate, feels out of obligation at best and self-punishment at worst. Reva visits her, and even though we know she hates hearing Reva’s woes, she keeps listening.

She cares for Reva, under it all, but can't stand her. Reva doesn’t seem to like her much, either. I was struck by the fearless, uncomfortable portrayal… show more.

The premise of this book is how to be the ultimate anti-workaholic, and from that concept alone, I was hooked. Our protagonist decides to spend a year doing nothing, literally a year of rest and relaxation. She sleeps, eats, and watches lots of VHS movies. Moshfegh is one of the most exciting young writers of contemporary literature. Her wit could cut through granite, and as ridiculous as the premise is, she manages to pull it off. Reading this book was like giving in to my Id. Sometimes all I want to do is watch myself be lazy.  

The depressed twenty-something narrator of this novel has an impossible time keeping her stories straight because she lies to literally everyone about literally everything. Even the title of the book is a lie! She is neither resting nor relaxing, but is instead doping herself into an unfeeling oblivion, sleeping 18-20 hours a day with the help of dozens of medications she monthly lies her way into getting from her negligent therapist. It’s hard to watch someone destroy themselves; sometimes, it’s also hard to look away. 

The year is 2000. Our narrator has lost her parents in her senior year to cancer and suicide. All she wants is to sleep. Her apathetic state is familiar to Turkey’s citizens. Throughout 2017, similar sentiments—resentment, cynicism, inaction—defined our psyche. Moshfegh‘s year ends with a terror attack. Ours started with one.