"my year of rest and relaxation." by ottessa moshfegh

I took the garbage out into the hallway and threw it down the trash chute. Having a trash chute was one of my favorite things about my building. It made me feel important, like I was participating in the world. My trash mixed with the trash of others. The things I touched touched things other people had touched. I was contributing. I was connecting. 

a curious parable of a person alienated and isolated, brought up in cold privilege, lacking any direction, meaning or drive towards a better life. 

to reset she decides to pursue the pharmaceutical magic of sleeping pills giving herself a year to sleep it out. we are reminded of a common treatment for hysterical women widely practiced at the outset of psychiatry. it doesn't always go as planned, but at least now she is determined. 

she is a gorgeous blonde thin new yorker, who studied arts, whose both parents are dead. has a friend who cares about her, but who she struggles to sincerely care about without a touch of disgust and irritation. in the background the year 2001 steadily taking its course, day by day, month by month. 

the language is a bit simplistic for my taste, it has a diaristic quality to it, a certain lack of refinement. but it didn't stop me from often deeply empathising with her inability to belong, to feel human, with the desire to fall asleep hoping to wake up a renewed better person, fitter, happier, more productive.