homesick for another world
I finished reading “Homesick For Another World” which feels a bit like a precursor to “My Year of Rest and Relaxation.” Overall rating is a 3.5/5.
I enjoyed the collection of stories and always find Moshfegh’s disgust of the human race appealing–and perhaps this is due to my neglect to finish this book as quickly as I would have liked–, but I found myself growing bored with the stories as I came close to finishing.
I particularly did not like the last couple stories. Like, at all. So, considering that, it felt like a lackluster ending to an otherwise good assortment of literature.
I particularly enjoy reading stories that feel so gutwrenchingly raw. For instance, it’s almost comforting to read a story about a person that has a strange obsession with someone else or some sort of a nasty habit that they can’t desist. It allows for this sense of immense acceptance that everyone is a bit strange, gross, bizarre, or just themself.
Not to say that everyone is a creep or yucky, BUT perhaps it comes down to my own insecurities and simply feeling comforted that there are characters being written that are FAR more disturbing than I am. Yes, okay, I see I’m projecting here a little. Well, forgive me, I’m JUST human. (cue nervous laughter)
Anyway, point being, I would recommend this book to nearly anyone regardless of my ranking because it just is so unrefined and sort of telling (in my opinion) of a person whether or not they appreciate her writing style. And perhaps, this book just feels completely unvarnished of who Ottessa Moshfegh really is and what she’s capable of in the art she creates. So, yes, please indulge and become utterly absorbed in this privileged and unabashed mastery.
Shoot, maybe I’ll rank it higher. Okay. I’m changing it to a 3.8/5.