Review of LAPVONA by Ottessa Moshfegh

 1 Star

This is my first encounter with this author, and I think it will be my last.  I feel I just read the opus of an immature teenager who is fascinated with grotesqueness and depravity and wants to shock readers. 

The novel is set in medieval times in a quasi-historical Eastern European village called Lapvona.  The impoverished villagers try to eke a living from the land while Villiam, a man-baby and creepy lord of the manor, lives in luxury.  Villiam is not in the least concerned with helping the villagers; he has a pathological need for constant entertainment, especially the kind that involves the humiliation of others. 

There are numerous characters and all are repulsive and/or selfish and/or immoral.  There’s a charlatan priest who works with Villiam to keep the Lapvonians docile.  There’s an old crone who served as wet nurse for many village children in the past and continues to let adult men suckle; she removes her eyeballs and replaces them with those of a horse.  There’s a sheep herder who physically abuses his son on a regular basis.  Instances of murder, rape, incest, flagellation, abuse, suicide, and cannibalism are detailed.  The repeated references to urine and feces seem to be intended to disgust the reader.

The flat tone of the narrative suggests a fable, but there is no moral or message.  Near the end, the author even suggests the reader try to find a purpose:  “Perhaps it is most miraculous when God exacts justice even when no human lifts a finger.  Or perhaps it is simply fate.  Everything seems reasonable in hindsight.  Right or wrong, you will think what you need to think so that you can get by.  So find some reason here:”  The only message I found is that people are stupid and selfish and life is cruel and meaningless.

As I was reading, I kept looking for some purpose to the story, but I came to the conclusion that there is none.  It seemed the author was adding horrors just to horrify; the book seems a mindless indulgence in vulgarity.  I became increasingly bored and disconnected as I read, and I hazard that the author did too as she wrote. 

I almost feel like I shouldn’t write a review of this book because doing so just suggests the book has some value.  Life is difficult enough; I don’t enjoy a grim slog through a book that reads like a litany of life’s brutalities.