02 Mar Book Review: My Year of Rest and Relaxation by Ottessa Moshfegh

There are some books that make you uncomfortable in the best possible way. My Year of Rest and Relaxation is one of them. It’s darkly funny, brutally honest, and shockingly raw. This is a story about privilege, depression, alienation, and the lengths we go to escape ourselves. If you’re in the mood for something introspective, thought-provoking, and a little bit messed up, this book is a must-read.

What’s it about?

Set in New York City in the year 2000, My Year of Rest and Relaxation follows an unnamed narrator who has everything—youth, beauty, intelligence, a Columbia University degree, and an inheritance that ensures she’ll never have to work. But she’s profoundly unhappy, detached from the world around her, and sick of her own existence.

Disillusioned with her life and haunted by her parents’ deaths, she decides that the only way to fix herself is to sleep. Not just a good night’s sleep, but a year-long hibernation, a complete withdrawal from life. She becomes obsessed with the idea that if she can sleep long enough, she’ll emerge as a new person—reborn, refreshed, and free from all her emotional baggage.

To achieve this, she seeks the help of Dr. Tuttle, a completely unprofessional and ethically questionable psychiatrist who hands out prescriptions like candy. Dr. Tuttle is a bizarre, comical character who suggests everything from antipsychotics to experimental sleeping aids, most of which have disturbing side effects. The narrator uses these drugs to create a “hibernation regimen,” a cocktail of medications that allows her to sleep for days on end.

But sleep isn’t the only thing she’s trying to escape. Her life is filled with people she can’t stand, from Trevor, her on-again, off-again boyfriend who is emotionally unavailable and manipulative, to Reva, her best friend whose superficiality and constant need for validation drive the narrator crazy.

Reva is dealing with her own issues—an eating disorder, her mother’s terminal illness, and a desperate desire to fit into New York’s elite social scene. She visits the narrator regularly, unloading her problems and seeking comfort, but the narrator feels nothing but irritation and contempt for her friend’s shallow concerns. Yet, despite her disdain, Reva is the only person who consistently checks in on her, bringing groceries and making sure she’s still alive.

The narrator isolates herself in her Upper East Side apartment, cutting off contact with the outside world. She quits her job at a trendy art gallery, stops seeing Trevor, and becomes a complete recluse. Her days blur together in a haze of medication, dreams, and hallucinations. She loses track of time, only waking up long enough to take more pills, order food, or watch old VHS tapes of Whoopi Goldberg movies—a strange comfort she finds soothing in her drug-induced haze.

As the months pass, the narrator’s sleep becomes deeper and more detached from reality. She begins experiencing blackouts, waking up to find evidence of activities she can’t remember—emails sent, phone calls made, and even art projects created while she was essentially sleepwalking. She hires Ping Xi, an artist and occasional drug dealer, to keep an eye on her during her blackouts, and he uses her unconscious body as a living canvas, turning her into bizarre art installations.

Throughout her year of hibernation, the narrator reflects on her past, her parents’ cold indifference, her troubled relationship with Trevor, and her complicated friendship with Reva. She views life as meaningless, a series of obligations and expectations she wants no part of. Her hibernation is an act of rebellion, a way to reject the world and its demands.

But even in her self-imposed isolation, the outside world continues to intrude. Reva keeps visiting, Trevor leaves pathetic voicemails, and the world moves on without her. She becomes increasingly detached, convinced that when she finally wakes up, she’ll be a new person, free of all the pain and emptiness she’s been carrying.

The novel culminates in the narrator’s final “hibernation experiment,” a three-month blackout induced by a powerful experimental drug. When she finally wakes up, it’s September 2001, and New York City is on the brink of tragedy. The book ends on an ambiguous note, leaving readers to question whether her year of rest and relaxation truly transformed her—or if she’s just as empty as before.

What This Chick Thinks

A dark, twisted exploration of existentialism and privilege

This book isn’t for everyone. It’s deeply cynical, unapologetically dark, and often uncomfortable. The narrator is deliberately unlikable—self-absorbed, cruel, and completely detached from reality. But that’s what makes her so fascinating. She’s brutally honest about her disgust with the world, her indifference to other people, and her desire to just disappear.

It’s a scathing critique of privilege and consumerism. The narrator has everything society says you need to be happy, but she’s completely miserable. Her year of hibernation is an act of protest against the superficiality of modern life, a rejection of capitalism, relationships, and social expectations.

The writing is mesmerizing and darkly funny

Ottessa Moshfegh’s writing is razor-sharp, with a dry, sardonic wit that cuts through the darkness. The narrator’s observations are bleak but oddly hilarious, exposing the absurdity of human behavior. The prose is hypnotic, drawing you into her detached worldview and making you feel the numbing monotony of her existence.

Reva is the emotional anchor

While the narrator is cold and indifferent, Reva is painfully human. She’s needy, insecure, and desperate for validation, but she’s also loyal, caring, and tragically relatable. Her vulnerability contrasts sharply with the narrator’s apathy, making her the emotional heart of the story.

Reva’s struggle with body image, her mother’s illness, and her quest for happiness in a world that constantly tells her she’s not enough is heartbreaking. Despite the narrator’s disdain, Reva keeps showing up, a reminder that human connection exists even in the most isolated lives.

Final Thoughts

My Year of Rest and Relaxation is a bold, provocative novel that explores the emptiness of modern life, the desire to escape reality, and the existential crisis of a generation. It’s a brutal, unflinching look at depression, privilege, and the absurdity of societal expectations.

It’s not a feel-good book. It’s dark, nihilistic, and unapologetically bleak. But it’s also brilliantly written, darkly funny, and deeply thought-provoking. If you’re in the mood for something challenging and introspective, this one will leave you thinking long after you’ve turned the last page.

Rating: 9/10

Try it if you like

• Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata – Another introspective novel about a woman rejecting societal expectations and choosing her own path.
• Eileen by Ottessa Moshfegh – If you like Moshfegh’s dark, twisted style, this earlier novel is just as unsettling and compelling.
• The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath – A classic exploration of mental illness, alienation, and existential despair.