A disaffected young woman’s work as a cleaner takes her on an increasingly surreal search for a creative fulfillment, gainful employment, and the meaning of life in this sharp, tragicomic debut—perfect for fans of Melissa Broder, Jen Beagin, and Alexandra Tanner.A young artist returns to her childhood home, with a host of degrees and diplomas in her back pocket. But when forced to confront the reality that the world sees no use for her scholarly exploits, she must find a job—and quickly.Overqualified, underemployed, and idle, she starts a job as a cleaner for a gallery, where she meets another aspiring artist—Isabella—and they begin a passionate affair. Isabella could not be more different from the she’s elegant, successful…and living with her filthy rich boyfriend Paul.Isabella sneaks the cleaner into her life by hiring her to scrub the apartment she shares with Paul. Little by little, the cleaner relaxes into the comfort of her new surroundings. But when Isabella leaves the apartment one day and doesn’t come back, the cleaner is left to decide whether to back to her old life—or stay and step into Isabella’s.
My Review:
This story doesn't have a beginning. I just sat on dining-room chairs with my legs swinging like anyone else; grew possessive over junk plastic, shovelled chicken nuggets down my throat at birthday parties and spent enough time gazing quizzically at the sun to grow yearly, like any uniform sapling. I outgrew clothes and shoes faster than my siblings and felt guilty for it, conscious even then that childhood was a wasteful inconstant medium. At school I excelled for want of a peculiar, comfortable love from my parents, proving perhaps that a plant that's desperate to be measured grows more. I equated nurture with expectation. And so, I studied ruthlessly, endlessly, until I found myself in my mid-twenties, crowned with an obscene amount of paper, proving my brain had grown beyond capacity, and with an ungodly amount of student debt. (Shit.)
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