“What impresses here is not so much Moshfegh’s abilities with character or narrative, or even her language. It is the source of their dark sparkle.” -Oprah Daily The tension caused by this, the friction, is what’s special about them. On the content level, they are crude, but on the aesthetic level, they are refined. They flirt with nihilism but are elegantly constructed. Moshfegh is sui generis, head and shoulders above most of her peers. “Lapvona, is hilarious, poignant, controlled, a little nihilistic. “The disturbing intensity of the novel hearkens to Moshfegh’s acclaimed McGlue and Eileen, but this story feels far more riotous, debauched and voracious.” -Washington Post One of The New Yorker’s Best Books of 2022 By year’s end, the veil between blindness and sight, life and death, the natural world and the spirit world, will prove to be very thin indeed. The people’s desperate need to believe that there are powers that be who have their best interests at heart is put to a cruel test by Villiam and the priest, especially in this year of record drought and famine. But when fate brings Marek into violent proximity to the lord’s family, new and occult forces upset the old order.
For some people, Ina’s home in the woods outside of the village is a place to fear and to avoid, a godless place.Īmong their number is Father Barnabas, the town priest and lackey for the depraved lord and governor, Villiam, whose hilltop manor contains a secret embarrassment of riches. Her gift often brings her the transmission of sacred knowledge on levels far beyond those available to other villagers, however religious they might be. Ina’s gifts extend beyond childcare: she possesses a unique ability to communicate with the natural world. One of life’s few consolations for Marek is his enduring bond with the blind village midwife, Ina, who suckled him when he was a baby, as she did so many of the village’s children. Little Marek, the abused and delusional son of the village shepherd, never knew his mother his father told him she died in childbirth. In a village in a medieval fiefdom buffeted by natural disasters, a motherless shepherd boy finds himself the unlikely pivot of a power struggle that puts all manner of faith to a savage test, in a spellbinding novel that represents Ottessa Moshfegh’s most exciting leap yet
Through a mix of witchery, deception, murder, abuse, grand delusion, ludicrous conversations, and cringeworthy moments of bodily disgust, Moshfegh creates a world that you definitely don’t want to live in, but from which you can’t look away.” - The Atlantic
“ Lapvona flips all the conventions of familial and parental relations, putting hatred where love should be or a negotiation where grief should be.
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