Lapvona, Ottessa Moshfegh
I love books (and movies) that are really…weird. I’m always looking for something that feels new and unfamiliar, even if that means it’s a little gross or disturbing. For that reason, I was really excited to read Lapvona which got a lot of hype on the internet, especially on BookTok; Jordine called it “possibly the weirdest book I’ve ever read.”
But.
I didn’t think it was that weird…
Lapvona took place in a fictional medieval village of the same name and followed the lives of a number of its denizens over the course of a year. The satirical novel modeled its structure after a longform folktale and for this reason the characters were representational and devoid of depth. I found this style to be consistent with the form but was unable to connect to the characters past a surface level. Moshfegh creates characters that are intentionally unlikeable and these were no exception but beyond that I didn’t really care about the characters at all.
Moshfegh’s easily digestible writing style creates dissonance with the violent and vulgar world she attempts to create. While violence and horror are both absolutely present, the descriptors and casual tone made the whole affair feel very PG-13 to me.
I appreciated the sense of humor that remained present throughout the story and admired the way the author honored her bizarre sense of humor. Other readers expressed shock at the infamous “grape moment” – one character puts a grape in their butt and another eats it – but I thought moments like that were the strongest in the book. Again, however, I’ll push back against the idea that a moment like that is totally weird – the grape moment is definitely a dare I would have done in college.
I found myself waiting for the other shoe to drop during the whole read. Because the story oscillated between so many characters with whom I felt little connection, I remained unphased as events progressed. The author created a fable that leads the reader indelibly toward a moral, ultimately subverting that conclusion by providing us instead with its absence. This satire of form is bold and clever; however, if you write a book that sets out to be pointless, you end up with a book that’s kind of pointless.
It’s kind of weird, kind of clever, kind of funny. I didn’t hate it. Overall, I’d say pick it up or don’t, which in some ways is worse.
Rating: 5/10
Trigger Warning: Self-harm, sexual violence, cannibalism, gore