My Review:Salem, Massachusetts, 1851: McGlue is in the hold, still too drunk to be sure of name or situation or orientation--he may have killed a man. That man may have been his best friend. Intolerable memory accompanies sobriety. A-sail on the high seas of literary tradition, Ottessa Moshfegh gives us a nasty heartless blackguard on a knife-sharp voyage through the fogs of recollection.
They said I've done something wrong? . . . And they've just left me down here to starve. They'll see this inanition and be so damned they'll fall to my feet and pass up hot cross buns slathered in fresh butter and beg I forgive them. All of them . . . : the entire world one by one. Like a good priest I'll pat their heads and nod. I'll dunk my skull into a barrel of gin.
The writing, character development and descriptions were excellent as with everything I've read by Ottessa Moshfegh but the plot was a bit too fluid and stream of consciousness for my liking. Specifically, I didn't really want to be in McGlue's mind that was addled with drink and sickness, reminiscing. I was hoping for a bit more action but it was not meant to be with this novella. Still, the writing was excellent and, as always, I can't wait to read what Ottessa Moshfegh writes next!
My mind travels the cold hills of Peru where I got lost one night. A fat woman fed me milk from her tit and I rode a shaggy dog back along a river to the coast.